I'd Walk Through Hell
by wingedraksha
Summary: After the war, Pyro wants nothing more than to fade into anonymity... but finds himself caught in a dangerous game of psychosis, lies and murder where trust is a card to be played and the life of the girl he never forgot is the prize. Kyro.
1. A Rock and a Hard Place

_**I'd Walk Through Hell**_

Prologue

He flicked the lighter on and off, staring at the flame and thinking, much to his disgust, of her. Now that the war was done, or at least on hold until the so-called cure wore off (which he was sure it would; even his rudimentary scientific training told him that a serum made from the blood or DNA or whatever from a child whose talents only worked in close proximity would never last forever), he had nothing left to do. Nowhere to go. The Brotherhood was disbanded, seeing as Magneto was out of commission along with Mystique, who probably hated all their guts by now anyway, and he had no intention of leading anyone. Pyro worked like the fire he controlled: alone, fierce, and aloof. He, like the flames, had no allies and all kinds of enemies.

Not that that really mattered, of course. He was good at laying low, and that's what he'd do until Magneto came back.

Unfortunately, now that he had no war to fight, he had lots of spare time... most of which was spent thinking about a certain X-girl who could walk through walls.

Kitty Pryde.

It was funny. He'd never even told her how he felt about her. Everyone thought he'd had a thing for Bobby's girl, Rogue, but Rogue wasn't his style. He liked flash and confidence, both of which Kitty had (which was weird, seeing as she was such a nerd), and then there was the whole touching thing. He couldn't help it. Pyro liked to be able to kiss his girlfriend.

Not that Kitty Pryde had ever been, would ever be, his girlfriend.

As he was saying, he'd had a crush on the phaser for... well, who knew how long. There was something about her that just... drew him in, not that he'd ever shown it. She was like that. Pure and sweet, completely opposite him. And he'd thought that he was over her, but then seeing her at Alcatraz... god, that had packed a punch. She'd been so strong and determined, and it had sent a flutter through his stomach before he crushed it away and set about the work of destruction.

Pyro scoffed and stuck his finger in the flame of his lighter, careful not to use his powers. He winced at the sharp, almost unbearable sting of the fire, but held it in there until the weak thoughts of Miss Pryde were gone. He couldn't afford to think about her. He shouldn't think about her! She was an X-Geek! He was over that whole deal, anyway. Probably over the Brotherhood's deal, too, actually. Come to think of it, all Pyro really wanted was to burn things.

And to kiss-

No.

He rolled his eyes and stood from the park bench where he sat, stretching. It was mid-afternoon in October, and a beautiful day in New York City. Central Park was filled with people, humans and non, he expected. However, he'd have to go soon before the stores closed; he needed more lighter fluid.

As Pyro strolled across the green to the pavement of the sidewalk, he paused at the loud, tinkling sound of a girl laughing. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of two teenagers, probably a year or so younger than him, sitting on a rock formation and watching him, giggling. One of them said something to her friend, and they both smiled widely at him.

Once, not so long ago, John Allerdyce would have smiled back, winked maybe, and strutted off with a jaunty wave.

Now, Pyro closed his eyes briefly to fight away the sudden and unwelcome image of Rogue and Kitty, engulfed in flames, their laughter turning to screams. He hadn't hurt either of them, but they were familiar faces to put to the burning bodies of those he had hurt. Those he had killed. But he did push the image away, and built up his walls again, giving the girls a casual salute before continuing on. He'd killed people who deserved to die, and that was that.

As he rounded a curve in the path, Pyro found himself alone. This was unusual, especially for such a crowded day. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, scuffing a stone off the path.

Suddenly, there was a sharp, unfamiliar sound. That was all the warning he got before he was on his knees, hands to his temples, wordlessly screaming in agony as a huge, rough presence shoved indelicately into his mind. It felt like needles of ice, so cold they burned, stabbing through his barriers like paper.

"Get-out-of-my-head," he managed to gasp, bowing over his bent knees in pain. He felt a hand fist in his hair, jerking his head up. Through red-hazed eyes, Pyro saw a woman with long blond hair, dressed all in white. Her blue eyes bored into him, and her smile was cruel.

"Tell me," the woman said crisply, "where is Katherine Pryde?" There was a moment of complete shock before he fisted his hands in his pockets and felt his lighter bite into his palm.

"What the fuck are you talking about," Pyro gritted. The pain in his head had lessened slightly, as if she actually expected him to tell her. The woman in white cocked her head contemplatively.

"I'm looking for the Kitty-cat," she said. "You happened to be broadcasting thoughts of her far and wide. Now, where is she? Tell me before I rip the answer out of you!" To punctuate this, she sent a stab of agony through his skull. A part of Pyro wanted to protect the girl he'd loved for so long, and the bigger part was just really. Pissed. Off. So he smirked painfully, and spat at her feet.

He gathered his strength, pitting all his mental energy against her in one mighty thrust in a desperate move that Mystique had taught him, and lit his lighter.

Pyro sent a fireball straight through the pocket of his jacket that hit his attacker in the chest. She fell back, shrieking, and he climbed to his feet and staggered into a run that got stronger as he got farther away.

There was only one thought on his mind as he left the woman in white farther and farther behind him: I've gotta tell Kitty.

Chapter One

Bobby was manning the guardhouse at the mansion that night, thanks to a little accident involving mud and Logan's motorcycle. He still blamed Rogue... she'd started the mudfight, after all. (Not that Logan would ever punish her anyway, she being his... what, little sister figure? Some people had all the luck. Not that Bobby wanted to be close to Logan...) It was supposed to end with the two of them, covered in mud, actually able to touch and... but that was a teenager's dirty mind, for you. He smiled a little, thinking of Rogue. The two of them had gradually rebuilt their relationship after she'd gotten the cure, and now he really thought everything was going to be okay. Magneto was gone, Storm had taken over the mansion until a doctor whose name he always forgot- Moira Something, maybe- figured out what was going on with the Professor's mind in someone else's body, and the students were recovering nicely from the attack at Alcatraz.

Suddenly, Bobby's mind was dragged away from the past by a sound from outside the gates. He looked at the screens, and his jaw dropped.

There was a figure kneeling before the speaker, one hand pressed against the button that turned it on. Bobby could make out a jacket, jeans, and a downward-bent blond head. And a very familiar-looking jaws-decorated wrist igniter on the hand that was pressing the speaker button. Bobby laughed in disbelief before pressing the 'SPEAK' button and leaning down.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't John Allerdyce," he said mockingly, wondering how his ex-best friend had the nerve to show his face here.

Only... only he wasn't showing his face. He still hadn't looked up. Frowning a little, Bobby looked closer at the screen. John was breathing hard, and as Bobby squinted, he could see the young man shaking visibly. Bobby jerked back, his elbow accidentally hitting the 'VOLUME UP' switch on the speaker.

"Fuck," he heard faintly. "God, gotta- oh, man- gotta warn 'er... ah, Jesus!" John was muttering to himself, his words disjointed and wracked with pain. He was gasping in between phrases, as if it was terribly hard to force the words out.

"What the hell," Bobby asked softly, staring at the monitor as John suddenly jerked his head up and stared straight into the camera. Bobby's eyes widened in horror and shock as he gaped at the sight of his once-friend, now-enemy's face, twisted with agony and desperation. Tracks of blood ran down his pale cheeks from the corners of his eyes and a single dribble of crimson ran down from his right nostril. "Jesus Christ," Bobby cried, hitting the 'HELP' button with a shaking fist.

"Whaddaya want," came Logan's gruff tones.

"Get- oh my God- get someone out here! Logan, get Storm!"

"What's going on?" Logan now sounded crisp and completely awake. Bobby leaned back against the counter, unable to look away from John's pleading face.

"It's John," he said slowly.

"Who?"

"It's Pyro," Bobby corrected.

"Pyro? Why the hell is he here? And why the hell should we help him?"

"Just get Storm!" Truthfully, Bobby was asking himself the same questions... or, he had been, before he realized that something was very, very wrong with John Allerdyce. And, even now, he knew that John was a killer, and not to be trusted. But there was something in that shaking form, those disjointed, hopeless words, that refused to be ignored.

"What's wrong with him?" Rogue was leaning against the door frame of the infirmary as Dr. Hank Macoy bent over the sedated body of one John Allerdyce. Pyro looked completely different than he had the last time she'd seen him; his hair was matted with sweat, his face pale and still, the blood wiped away. The expression of mocking superiority or burning danger was gone, leaving him looking helpless and hopeless and much more like the nineteen-year-old kid that he really was. He didn't move in his drugged sleep, and Rogue shivered. He looked so... broken. "Hank? What the hell happened to him?" Ordinarily, she didn't talk like that, especially not to Hank. But Pyro had once been one of her best friends, and even if he was a traitor and a murderer, something about seeing him so blank and still made her stomach churn. She would hate him when he was healthy and fiery and able to fight back. After all, who the hell knew what Magneto had said to him to make him join? Rogue knew all about being used, and she wasn't unwilling to give Pyro a chance to be John again.

Hank looked over, his face solemn.

"I'm not sure. If only the Professor were here... or Jean. But I think he's been attacked psychically."

"What? You mean, like someone broke into his mind?"

"Yes, I think so." Rogue straightened, coming closer to the bed. She looked down at the prone body, and chewed her lower lip.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Well, his vital signs are all fine. He lost some blood, but not too much. In fact, as far as I can tell, right now, he's just sleeping normally. With the help of a sedative, of course. Before, he was far too incoherent and delirious for me to examine him properly." Rogue raised a brow, tilting her head to peer at John's still features.

"You sure? He looks awful still for everything to just be normal." Hank shrugged.

"I've done the best I can for him. When he wakes up, we'll be able to find out what, or who, did this to him. And what he's doing here, of all places."

"Bobby... Bobby said he was talking. Muttering things, I mean. Something about having to warn someone. Could that be why? He has to warn someone here at the institute? But why would Pyro want anything to do with any of us," she mused, gazing down at the arches of his brows.

"Well, we'll find out soon," Hank allowed, turning to rearrange some hand towels on a rack behind him. Suddenly, John's eyes flew open and Rogue jumped about a foot, one hand automatically reaching to pull off a glove that was no longer there.

"Where is she?!" John was trying to sit up, but failing. He looked around wildly, his eyes so wide that the whites were visible all the way around the irises. Hank bent swiftly over him, attaching the padded wrist-restraints without much of a struggle from the weakened Pyro. "What the hell are you doing? Where is she!" He looked down at his bound hands, seemed to deem them unimportant, and went back to searching the room. Rogue stared at him warily.

"Where's who?"

"Kitty! Where. Is. Kitty?!"

"Kitty?" Rogue was nonplussed, unsure whether or not she should answer. "She's not here," she said finally, just as Hank slid a needle into the crook of John's tense elbow. He slumped back down onto the mattress, an odd expression of what Rogue could have sworn was relief on his face before his eyes slid closed.

"Don't let that bitch find her," he mumbled, too low for anyone to hear clearly. Rogue caught the first part, and wasn't sure if he was talking about Kitty or someone else. She frowned, backing away as Hank tightened the restraints a bit. He looked over at her as she edged for the door.

"I should have secured him before. I just didn't think. I'm sorry he startled you, Marie."

"Yeah, I, um... I've gotta go." She exited the infirmary without looking back, and headed for a phone.

"Hello?"

"Kitty? Is that you?" Rogue leaned against the wall of her bedroom, her mind racing.

"Yeah. Rogue?" Kitty was at home visiting her family, and had not expected a call from anyone, much less Rogue. After the other mutant had gotten the cure, and Bobby had gone back to her with open arms, the relationship between the two girls had been... a bit strained.

"Yes, it's me. Um, Kitty? I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" Kitty frowned. Rogue sounded stressed and uncertain, and it was making Kitty uncomfortable.

"Uh... John came back."

"What?!" Before the whole thing with Bobby, Kitty had had a massive crush on the resident bad boy of the institute, which only Rogue and Jubilee knew about. After the fire-manipulator had left to join Magneto, Kitty had locked away those feelings and turned to sweet, attentive Bobby Drake.

"Last night. There was something wrong with him."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I don't know. He just showed up outside the gate, shaking and mumbling and bleeding from the eyes."

"What!"

"Hank sedated him and restrained him in the med lab. He woke up a few minutes ago, just for a moment before Hank put him out again, and he... he asked for you."

"He asked for me?" Kitty was feeling a bit stupid, repeating everything Rogue said, but she was in shock. Pyro had asked for her?

"He wanted to know where you were. And before, when he was just muttering random things, Bobby said that he said something about warning someone. And when I told him you weren't here, he looked... relieved, I swear to God!"

"So you think he was, like, here to warn me? Why would Pyro have done that?"

"I don't know. None of us do. It's just... I think you'd better come back here and talk to him." Rogue didn't know if she was doing the right thing, but she didn't know what else to do.

"I'll come as soon as I can," Kitty replied, heart pounding. She was going to see John again. She was excited. She was uncertain. She was petrified.

What would she find in that med lab? On Alcatraz, that hadn't been the boy she'd fallen for shooting fiery cars at them. That had been someone deadly and heartless, someone who couldn't care less how many he incinerated.

But she had to go, she knew. She had to find out what was going on.


	2. Home, Sweet Home

Chapter Two

When John opened his eyes, he was staring into the blue and very hairy face of someone he thought he should recognize. In this dazed state, however, he jerked away from the startling visage and reached for his lighter, as his wrist igniters never got that fuel. Or, rather, he tried to reach for his lighter. Pyro froze, realizing that he was secured to the bed with wrist-straps. Then, right after that jolting realization, he recognized the face peering at him.

"Ah, hell," Pyro muttered. "So I made it here after all." As he said it, he had the vague idea that he'd already known this, and had in fact woken up before, but he couldn't really remember either way.

Hank Macoy looked down at the teenager calmly, his expression unreadable.

"So, you're awake. How do you feel?"

"Like I'm strapped to a fucking bed in the X-Mansion with a drill in my skull, how 'bout you?" Despite the snark, Pyro's voice was quiet and lacked his usual fire. Hank frowned a little, ignoring the words and worried by the tone.

"I'm quite serious. You were in a very bad state when you arrived, and we're not entirely sure what's happened to you. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can figure it out." Pyro sneered at him.

"I'll tell you what happened to me! Some blond she-devil came and-" Suddenly he stopped, remembering why he'd subjected himself to this in the first place. "Wait, Blue Guy, uh, Dr. Macoy, you gotta let me out of here. I have to talk to Kitty Pryde."

"So you said before," Hank said slowly, looking a bit surprised that Pyro knew his name. The teen blinked.

"What? Before?" He shrugged it off. "Doesn't matter. Just let me talk to Ghost Girl and I'll get out of your hair." The pun was not intended, but once he said it, Pyro couldn't help but take in the great deal of hair that Hank really had, sniggering. The doctor raised a brow.

"How stupid do you think we are? There is no way I'm releasing you to burn down this facility." John rolled his eyes.

"You took my lighter," he said, stating his obvious assumption. "And why would I come to you for help if I was planning on killing you all?"

"Why indeed? What is it you want with Kitty? And who exactly put you in this condition?"

Pyro shook his head, growing weary but trying to hide it.

"I'm not talking anymore to you, Blue. Get me Kitty Pryde." Hank sighed.

"Look, John-"

"Pyro."

"Whatever. I won't let you go, but I can help you. Tell me what happened."

"Some lady came up and screwed around inside my head, whaddaya think happened?!"

"Who?"

"I don't know. She was blond. Dressed in white. Blue eyes. A real hard-core bitch, if you know what I mean."

"Ah. And what made you come to us?" John shut his eyes, partly because he was exhausted and mostly because he was sick of talking to this walking fuzzball.

"Where else would I go," he muttered as sleep overtook him, unaware that he'd said it out loud. Hank stared at the unconscious young man before rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm."

The next time John woke up, he was being stared at by more than the blue guy. There was Storm, with her new short haircut and cool eyes. Next to her was Logan, his arms crossed, looking annoyed, curious, angry and amused. It was an interesting mix. Then came Hank Macoy, and lastly, Bobby Drake. Pyro blinked, subtly moving his wrists. Yep. Still strapped down.

"What are you doing here, bub?" Logan, sounding dangerous. John glanced at Storm, wondering who was in charge now that whatever had happened with Professer X had gone down. The weather witch met his gaze evenly, but he could see the lightning beneath the calm.

"Looks like I'm lying in the infirmary," John said cheekily. He didn't know why he said things like this; they just slipped out. Great. You wanna get these people to help you, and you mouth off the first chance you get. Logan frowned.

"I wouldn't be so smartassed, kid," he said. "You're strapped down in our home, and we already have reason to kill you. Or cure you." Pyro's eyes widened a little at that last threat. Logan was right in assuming that being cured scared the teenager far more than being killed.

"Why are you here, Pyro?" It was Bobby. John looked at him, but couldn't tell what he was thinking. That was new. Usually he could read Iceman like a book. Pyro rolled his eyes and sighed. He didn't have time for this trust-winning bullshit.

"I'm here to talk to Kitty. And…" He forced out the truth, knowing they'd find out. "I had nowhere else to go."

"Why?"

"I got jumped," he admitted, trying to appear as relaxed as possible without losing his edge. His head still hurt, and at the reminder of the hell he'd been through the night before, John winced visibly. "Some woman with major psychic powers. She was looking for Kitty."

"For Kitty?" Storm sounded surprised. John nodded.

"Yeah. She was gonna rip my mind to shreds before going after Shadowcat." Bobby snorted.

"Not like that would have been a big loss," he said, just loud enough for Pyro to hear him. Pyro couldn't help it. He sneered.

"Bigger loss than yours, Popsicle," he goaded. Bobby snarled, and Storm rolled her eyes.

"Watch what you say, John," she said. "Logan's right. You're at our mercy, more or less." Bobby snickered, and Storm turned to him, eyes flashing. "You, too, Bobby. Do you really want to have guard duty for another week?" Bobby fell instantly silent. Pyro smirked at him before looking casually back at Storm. So this was how they were gonna play it.

"Now, Pyro," Hank began, "it appears that there is nothing wrong with you. You seem to have made a full recuperation from whatever adverse effects there were from this assault." John blinked at him, decided not to bother decoding that, and tugged at his bonds.

"Gonna let me up?"

"Let's think," Logan said with a hint of a smug smile. "Nope, doubt it." John sat up as much as he could, the last hint of drugs leaving his system as he snarled at the X-Men surrounding him. Unfortunately, strapped to a bed so tightly that he could only raise his upper body a few inches off the mattress, he doubted that he looked all that intimidating.

"Look, X-Geeks, I'm not gonna torch this place, if that's what you're worried about. I'm done with the whole terrorism thing." He sounded sure, though he'd only really just decided that. Storm and the others looked skeptical.

"Oh?" Pyro curled his lip at them.

"Yeah. Not that I'm coming back to you losers, but the Brotherhood? Was a really screwed up faction, okay? And Magneto was the worst of them all, with his stupid dream that took over everything and then she-" He broke off, forgetting that he was in a room filled with the enemy, and the others had to lean in to catch his next words. "She took the bullet for him, and he just left her." Suddenly, Pyro snapped out of that particularly unpleasant memory and laughed. The X-Men jerked back, startled. "So anyway, you can let me go. I just want to deliver my message for Kitty, and get the hell away from here." Hank pulled Storm aside and murmured something in her ear. She frowned a little, looking confused, and glanced at John. He glared at her.

"No, that's impossible," she whispered to the doctor.

"I'm telling you, give him a chance. He was doped; he didn't know I could hear him. And what he said was, 'where else would I have gone'? He still views this place as a safe haven, or as close to it as someone as troubled as our John can imagine. I believe he could be redeemed."

"'Our John'? Hank, this is Pyro we're talking about! He's a killer!"

"True, but so was Logan." Logan, whose superhuman hearing had been picking up the entire conversation, looked over sharply. Storm's large, apologetic eyes met his, as well as the honest eyes of Hank Macoy. He gave a minute shrug and a nod. Storm's brow raised a hair, but she sighed and went back to stand by the bed.

"John?"

"It's Pyro. How many times do I have to tell you people?" She looked a little scary when she had lightning flickering behind her eyes like that. He ignored it.

"Pyro. We have an offer for you."

"What?" Suspicious.

"We'd like you… to come back to the school. Go through a rehab program." Bobby looked affronted. Hank looked pleased. Logan looked like a cross between exasperatedly accepting and wickedly amused as he watched Pyro's face dissolve into laughter. Logan had always had something of a soft spot for John Allerdyce. Frighteningly enough, the kid reminded the Wolverine of himself.

"Rehab," Pyro finally choked out. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Not at all, actually. Magneto is an excellent manipulator, and-" Instantly, Pyro's face shuttered. The admittedly cynical amusement melted away like ice introduced to fire, and Bobby had to stop himself from taking a step back. Pyro didn't test his bonds, but his entire body was tensed in a way that made everyone in the room a tad bit wary, and suddenly the kid strapped to the bed didn't look so helpless.

"I know what I did," Pyro said softly. Almost amicably. "I know what I chose. And I'm not going to be part of your little X-Factory ever again. I may not rejoin Magneto and his cause, but I'm sure as hell not picking you over him. And don't you EVER call me a pawn again." Storm's glare softened a bit.

"I didn't mean to imply that you were a pawn, John-"

"It's Pyro!" And now he did test the restraints, straining against the padded straps as the pent-up rage from losing the battle at Alcatraz, being abandoned by those he'd seen as family, loving a girl who could never be with him, being attacked by some sadistic bitch, and finally being trapped in the X-Mansion of all places broke free. His back arched against the mattress like a seizure victim as he twisted and writhed around in an attempt to free himself. "Let me go! Let me GO!" Storm quickly ushered the speechless Bobby out of the room as Logan went over and pinned the boy flat to the bed until Hank could administer whatever sleepy potion he was hurriedly filling a syringe with. Pyro tried to head-butt Logan, but the older man caught his shoulders and slammed him back down.

"Calm down!"

"Get the fuck off me! Let me OUT OF HERE!" The teenager jerked his left shoulder up, managing to catch the side of Logan's head as well as wrenching his own wrist. Logan cursed.

"Damn it, kid, you're gonna break your wrist if you keep thrashing around like this!" Pyro snarled at him, animal-like, and Logan wondered briefly if that's what he looked like when he snarled at people. Hank managed to inject the sedative, and Pyro's struggles grew weaker. Logan kept his hands on the boy's shoulders as the rage-filled eyes glazed over.

"Relax," Logan said unnecessarily, as the drug took hold.

"Go… to hell," Pyro got out before he slid into unconsciousness. Logan grinned despite himself. Damn it, he liked this kid. And was completely disgusted with him for turning traitor, but… well, it wasn't like Logan, who not so long ago had been the very definition of anarchist, had any room at all to speak.

Kitty stared at the tall iron gates that closed off Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, her duffel bag over her shoulder. She'd taken the first bus she could, somehow sliding around her parents' protests. Well, okay, she had bribed her mom with Oreos, but the point was, she was back. She was home.

And so was someone else.

Swallowing, Kitty phased through the gate and walked up to the front door. She was greeted by Rogue, looking off-balance, and Bobby, looking… well, shell-shocked.

"Is it that bad," Kitty asked nervously. Bobby just put his arm around Rogue, shook his head, and pointed in the direction of the med lab. Kitty started down the hall, looking over her shoulder pleadingly. Rogue started to move towards her, but Bobby murmured something in her ear and she froze. Kitty walked the rest of the way alone, grumbling to herself to keep the fear at bay.

She came around a corner and found herself abruptly at her destination. How had that happened? She'd deliberately taken the long way! Kitty shook her head in self-reproach and tried on a smile. It couldn't be that bad. It was John! She walked up to the door with new courage and gave a shriek before phasing halfway through the floor as Logan suddenly strode out of the room. He eyed her from her waist-deep position in the rug, and gave a very slight shake of the head.

"He's in there," he said gruffly, thumbing over his shoulder. "Hank doped him up, but you can go see him if you want." Blushing furiously, Kitty rose to stand properly, wishing desperately that it had been anyone but Logan to see her embarrass herself like that. Logan was the only one with the ability to make her (and everyone else) feel like a complete idiot with nothing but a head shake. Well, he and John.

John.

Right back to the issue at hand, Kitty. Good job. No avoidance. Procrastination is for… is for losers… and… and… people who aren't Kitty Pryde, because… oh, god, she wasn't ready to see him again.

Shaking her head, she phased determinedly through the door as she slapped her cheek lightly. 'Come on, Kit-Kat, get ahold of yourself.'

And there he was. Lying on the bed, eyes closed, out cold. Just as Logan had said. But Logan hadn't said anything about the straps that held him down, or about the way the skin of his wrists was red and chaffed from struggling against his bonds, or about how very pale his face was. Kitty forgot her nerves and rushed to him. Hey, he was unconscious. Not like he could catch her at the terrible crime of caring about him, right?

"Oh, Johnny," she whispered, reaching out hesitantly to brush a strand of brownish-blond hair away from his forehead. "What happened to you?" He sighed in his sleep, but didn't move. In that moment, Kitty was desperately glad that he was unconscious, drugged or no. She was desperately glad to have this moment, just this, where they were silent and it was okay between them.

And then she rested a hand on the side of his bed and accidentally touched the thick straps that held him down; metal bands padded with layers of cloth. Kitty darted her hand away, swallowing hard. The strange peace that had been with her a moment before fled as suddenly as it had come, and everything came crashing down. He was a prisoner. They had made him as comfortable as they could, and had cleaned up his wounds, but beneath the soft padding were bands of steel. She bent her head and cried a little, just a little, afraid to touch him again. He just looked so soft lying there, so real and warm. It was hard to remember that he was the enemy, with him just sleeping there like that. Kitty glanced around warily before getting to her feet and bending at the waist to press a light kiss to his forehead. She made sure that no other part of her body touched his, and she could almost feel herself phasing as she gave him whatever blessing an uncertain, frightened teenager could give.

As Kitty turned away, she noticed something dark against the white sheets. Kneeling, she peered at John's hand. His left index finger had a dark red patch on it, like a fresh burn. Somehow, that tiny burn sent a foreign thrill down Kitty's spine, and she couldn't help but touch the tip of her forefinger to the patch of shiny red skin. Electric. John made a small noise in his throat, and Kitty leaped away. Prisoner. He was a prisoner. A Brotherhood member. A murderer. No one she should be touching in any way, even if it was just a burn.

With one last glance, she fled the room the same way she'd entered.


	3. Old Aquaintances

Chapter Three

"Kitty?" It was Storm, ducking her head politely into Kitty's darkened room. The teenager rolled over, almost rolling out of bed, and wiped her eyes blearily.

"Yes?" She glanced at her alarm clock. 6:35 AM. Normally, Kitty would already be awake, but for some reason she'd just felt so drained going to bed.

"He's awake," Storm said quietly. That was all she needed to say. Kitty sprung out of bed, making a beautiful flying leap for her closet and barely managing to catch herself before she hit it head-on. Storm backed out, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. Kitty, breathless and suddenly wide awake, rooted through her clothes. What did one wear upon seeing your crush/enemy while he's strapped down in a hospital bed? Kitty tossed aside a royal blue blouse, inanely muttering,

"If only Cosmo had articles about this! They'd have a subscriber for sure!" Then, upon hearing what had just come out of her mouth, she made herself stop and take a breather. It wasn't like he was gonna just disappear- again- if she wasn't there in the next five seconds. She could calm down.

Right.

Kitty tugged on a pair of comfortable black yoga pants beneath her faded pink nightgown, hopping around trying to poke her left foot through the pants leg as she reached for a pale yellow turtleneck. Finally managing to step fully into the pants without crashing into anything major, she pulled off her nightgown and pulled on the turtleneck. Going to her hand-mirror, she brushed her hair swiftly and tied it in its customary ponytail before swiping on some lip gloss and a little eyeliner. Might as well look nice, right? Right. Go team.

When she was dressed and as made up as she was going to get, Kitty exited her room and got three-quarters of the way to the infirmary before realizing that she had no shoes.

As she paused outside the med bay door, Kitty heard someone yelling inside. Her lips twitched as she instantly recognized the voice.

"Honestly, I'm gonna get bedsores if you keep me here too long! Do you really want to deal with bedsores at a time like this? I'm telling you-"

"I know what bedsores are, Pyro," came Hank's longsuffering voice. "And you are going to get more than that if you keep up this racket. Remember last night? I could always just dope you again. Or get Logan to sit on you." There was a pause, and then John said, rather sullenly,

"Sure, fine, just keep me drugged. That's a great way to deal with problems. And don't even get me started on that overgrown badger." Kitty giggled silently before steeling herself and pushing open the door.

Pyro stewed in his resentment. The furry doctor was right, sadly enough. Last night's breakdown had gotten him nothing but a sprained wrist and two bruised shoulders. When he got out of here, though, he might just renege on his promise and burn the infirmary down, just to see this godforsaken bed go up in flames.

Suddenly, the door opened. He stared blankly as a girl entered carefully, turning to press the door closed before coming any closer.

Kitty. It was Kitty.

Ah, shit.

Pyro's mind was whirring. 'How do I treat her? How do I act? I love her, but she's an X-Man. X-Girl. Whatever. X-Person? Didn't everything have to be politically correct these days? Anyway, maybe I don't love her. Do I love her? Now is not the time for inner contemplation! Oh, no, the doc's rubbing off on me. I gotta get out of here! But no, I gotta warn Kitty first. Only- how do I treat her?' He stared at her, taking her in. She looked soft and clean and fresh in yellow and black, her shiny brown hair in a smart little ponytail. He wanted to smile, to say hello, but… well, he couldn't do that, not after how he'd been treating everyone else. That would give away his feelings for her. And Pyro wasn't stupid. Impulsive and brash, but not stupid. He knew perfectly well that he was the bad guy here, and that the other X-Men would never let him touch their Pryde and joy. And he knew that, at least right now, he was putting Kitty in danger just by caring for her. If he found out she cared for him too, he'd have such a burst of inner joy surrounding her name that whoever that crazy lady in white had been would track them down in an instant.

So it was simple.

Don't let on you care.

Even if there hadn't been the danger of the psychic, Pyro probably wouldn't have, anyway. It was pointless. He'd lost enough people in his life to know that caring for anyone brought nothing but pain.

"Hey, Kitten," he said. "What's up?"

"Hi, Johnny," she said softly. His lips curved up a tiny bit. He'd forgotten that. Whenever he'd called her 'Kitten', she'd responded by calling him 'Johnny'. Just to put him in his place, she'd once said in that perky, smug little voice she had sometimes.

"C'mere," he ordered. Hank looked at the two of them a bit nervously, but didn't intervene. John smiled to himself. He knew the doctor was worried about another outburst.

Slowly, Kitty approached his bed. She was looking at the restraints on his wrists, and Pyro frowned. He wished they were covered up, but wasn't sure why.

"So, Kitty-Cat," he began. "Do you know anyone tall, blond, psychic and insane? Who might be looking for you? Kindly aunt, maybe?" He'd decided that the best way to deal with this was just to warn her, get it over with, and get out. If they ever let him off this goddamn bed, that was.

Kitty looked like she was thinking. He watched her eyes lightly trail down his left arm, and struggled against the urge to move it. Pyro's own eyes narrowed as hers stopped at his left hand. He ducked his head as casually as he could and peered at his hand. He couldn't really see it, but suddenly he remembered sticking a finger in his lighter flame. John laid his head back down, wondering why she was so interested in a burn.

Just then, Kitty gave a slight gasp. John's eyes were instantly on her, and he fought back the worry.

"Did- did she have blue eyes? And a really mean smile?"

"Yeah. Ringing a bell?"

"And was she wearing all white?" John sat up as much as he could, hitching his elbows against the mattress for support.

"That's right. You know her?" Kitty looked unstable on her feet. She put a hand out and it landed on the medicine rack behind her.

"Emma Frost," Kitty breathed, looking sick.

"Who?" Hank came over and steadied her, and John couldn't help the flash of jealousy that must have shown on his face. Instantly, he smoothed it out into a bored look and sighed loudly.

"She said 'Emma Frost', Blue," he drawled. "Now that we've got that all cleared up, can I, oh, I dunno, LEAVE?"

Hank ignored him, but Kitty flashed him a look.

"Leave? Again?"

"Well, you don't expect me to stay here with you lot, do you?" Pyro put as much scorn as he could into the question, and tightened his stomach against the hurt look she gave him. But then, just as soon as she frowned at him, she cleared her expression much the same way he had and shook her head.

"I suppose not," Kitty said bitingly. "After all, we are on the other side."

"Not technically. I'm not going back to the Brotherhood."

"Really? Then you're what, a free agent? Just like a virus."

"You know, maybe I will stick around. All the better to infect you freaks."

"Children, children!" Hank was patting the air in a futile attempt to look commanding. John smirked. Really, when someone was as big and blue as the doc, it was hard to take him seriously. Mystique had been blue, but she'd been a streamlined, feline sort of creature. Hank just looked like a plush toy. "This petty exchange of insults is getting us nowhere! John, be quiet. Kitty, just who exactly is Emma Frost?" As he spoke, he moved to the comm. link and pressed the button for Storm.

"'Be quiet'? What, am I gonna be part of the furniture here? 'Ah, yes, we've got the sink, the medicine cabinet, the pyromaniac…'?" Hank rolled his eyes and ignored him, but John could have sworn that Kitty's lips twitched. Then, she was speaking coolly to the doctor, not looking at him.

"I don't really know exactly who Emma Frost is. She's just, like, some woman who visited me when I was staying with my parents in Florida last summer. She wanted to pay me to work for her, using my powers. Like, you know, to steal stuff? Or something. It was bad, though, whatever she wanted. And when I said no way, she… got mean. Turns out she was a really powerful psychic, and she messed with my parents to try and get them to force me to help her. If the Professor hadn't helped them, who knows what would have happened." At the mention of Charles Xavier, Kitty looked sad. "Anyway, he made her go away. And that was that. Only… now he's gone."

"Well, I did speak to Moira a few days ago. She says that the man she thinks is Charles woke from his coma again, and for a little longer this time. She thinks it won't be long before he's with us for good." Kitty smiled a little nervously.

"I hope so. If she's after me, that could be really bad for everyone here." Suddenly, she looked at John. "Oh, my god," she said, "that's what happened to you, right? Of course! She attacked you, looking for me, and the Professor wasn't there to help you, so-" She looked so indubitably guilty that Pyro had to break her off, rolling his eyes.

"I handled it fine," he told her. "Shot her with a fireball."

"But it's all my fault!" It was amazing to Pyro that she could go from calling him a virus to kicking herself because he got attacked because of her.

"I'm fine! God!" He just wanted her to stop looking so miserable, but maybe yelling at her wasn't the best idea. Just then, Hank broke in, sounding curious.

"If she was looking for Kitty, why would she attack you, John? I mean, Pyro?" The teen swallowed, looking shiftily around the room as if he hoped to find an answer that wouldn't make him sound like a complete fool hiding behind the heart monitor.

"Um, I don't know." Crap. He hadn't thought about this. What reason would there be for Frost to attack him? Aside from his whole crush? Because there was no way in hell that he would admit to anyone, least of all Hank and Kitty, that he'd been targeted because he'd been fantasizing about little Miss Pryde.

"I mean, you two aren't exactly close," Hank said with a chortle. "Look at the way you were fighting a moment ago! Why would she have been drawn to you in order to find our Kitty, here?" John, growing a little desperate, eyed Kitty.

"Well, maybe she just… sensed that I'd known Kitty. Maybe she was in... in the neighborhood, and looking for anyone who knew who Kitty was." Hank shook his head slightly. Kitty was watching John, a funny look on her face. He decided he didn't even want to know what it meant, and went back to watching the doctor.

"I'm no psychic, but I don't think that's how they work. I had a talk with Charles about this very subject a while back. I believe he said something about how, when looking for a certain person and without the use of a tool like Cerebro, many psychics look for those who are broadcasting thoughts about the person they're after, as it's often difficult to narrow down a certain mind without any keys like such thoughts." The funny look on Kitty's face was still there, and Pyro found himself grateful for the fact that the drugs and the ordeal he'd been through kept his face pale, because otherwise, he'd be blushing. It was very easy to see where Hank was going with this. Coughing, Pyro summoned every ounce of self-control and disdain he'd learned under Magneto's tutelage, and every ounce of dignity he'd learned from Mystique.

"If you're saying what I think you're saying, then you're dead wrong. Like I would spend my valuable time thinking about Ghost Girl." Kitty snorted indignantly.

"Oh, like your time is so valuable! What have you been doing since Alcatraz, anyway?" He smirked at her.

"Oh, you know, contemplating my plans for world domination. Laughing at you losers. Burning things. The usual." She sneered. He hadn't known pretty Kitty could sneer. It was actually kind of cute.

"And don't call me that," Kitty said a little belatedly.

"What, Ghost Girl?" Again, the two young people completely ignored Hank's air-patting hands.

"Yeah. I have a name. Use it."

"Fine, Kitten," he purred, giving her a heated look. She flushed and crossed her arms, causing Pyro to laugh out loud.

"You're such a jerk, John! I can't believe I forgot how much of a jerk you really are!" If he hadn't been strapped down, Pyro would have slapped a hand to his heart in mock-pain. As it was, he merely flung his head back dramatically and scoffed at her.

"Oh, that smarts! Kitty Pryde thinks I'm a jerk! It burns!"

"Yeah, well, it should!" They stared at each other hotly for a moment before Kitty's face started to redden all over again, as it was perfectly clear to both of them who'd won that round. Pyro just smiled at her wickedly, pleased at his success at deflecting the conversation away from possibly uncomfortable and embarrassing truths.

"Ah, Storm, you're here," Hank said loudly. Kitty gasped and straightened. Pyro arched a brow at her before leisurely looking over at the weather witch. Hank looked relieved. Pyro felt the same way. He was a lot more comfortable when he had the clear advantage, even if it was only over Kitty, and he hoped he could keep his cool this time.

Chapter Four

"Good morning, all," Storm said calmly. Her white hair looked a little damp, and Pyro wondered if she'd just gotten out of the shower. She glanced at Kitty's crimson face, and then raised an eyebrow at Pyro.

"Good morning, Storm," Hank and Kitty said politely. John just looked at her.

"So, John-"

"It's Pyro, for the last time." She continued smoothly, not acknowledging his irritation.

"Have you considered my offer?" He looked at her incredulously.

"Do you really wanna bring that up again?"

"Have you?"

"No."

"No, you haven't considered it, or no, you don't accept?"

"No, I don't accept," Pyro said in exasperation. It was much more fun to annoy others than to be annoyed.

"Are you sure? According to Hank and yourself, you have nowhere else to go."

"How the hell would you know? I have plenty of places to go."

"You said it yourself."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Ah-hah! When you all drugged me! Again! I didn't know what I was saying. And it wasn't true, anyway. I don't need you people." Storm didn't look impressed.

"Hank is very eager for you to be rehabilitated here. Logan, too, considers you worth saving. I, myself, am unsure why we should give you a second chance, but since Charles always said everyone deserves one, I am willing to let you try. Are you really prepared to throw that away out of spite?"

Pyro glanced at Kitty out of the corner of his eye. She was gnawing on her lower lip, looking anxious. He wasn't sure if she was anxious about him refusing… or about him accepting.

"How 'bout this," he said, deciding to push aside his pride at least a little. It was worth getting out of the stupid straps. He had always hated feeling trapped, and now that he actually was tied down, helpless and unable to move, he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. Not to mention the fact that he was strapped to a bed. That was all kinds of spooky.

"Yes?"

"You let me out of these restraints, and I'll go… I dunno, apologize to people or whatever. And then I'll go, and you won't ever have to deal with me again."

"What about staying here? This could be your home, John." He thought about correcting her, but figured it was a lost cause by now.

"Why do you guys want me here so badly? Don't you all hate my guts?" He was stalling, but also genuinely curious.

"We don't 'hate your guts'," Hank put in. "You just made a wrong decision, and… um, several other wrong decisions after that one. But you're young, and mistakes can be made. I believe that, somewhere inside you, you still want to be part of this institution." Pyro burst out laughing. Storm interrupted him, and his chuckles died down.

"We don't hate you, Pyro," she told him. He cocked his head at her. Was she deliberately trying to get on his good side by calling him that? "We may not trust you, but we don't hate you. I agree with Hank that there is a chance you could fit in here again."

"And, uh, what about the badger? Why does he want me back," John asked merrily. This was pretty fun, actually. Hank clasped his hands, opening his mouth.

"Logan? Honestly, I think he just wants someone to be bad guys with him. Almost all of the students are afraid of him, you know." Storm shot Hank a glare. He shrugged at her, mouthing, 'What?' She shook her head and looked back at John, who was smiling cheekily.

"So, purely out of curiosity, what exactly is this whole rehab deal, anyway?"

"I'd have thought you'd be familiar with the term, Johnny," Kitty said, arms still crossed. "Didn't you do all the things that would require rehab?"

"Ooh," Pyro said sarcastically, "Kitten has claws."

"Bite me." He raised a brow. Kitty had really changed. For a moment, he was saddened. This war had changed them all, and he wasn't happy with the way it had hardened his Kitten, even if only a little. But who was he to say who should change and who shouldn't? Honestly, Pyro was just glad that Kitty hadn't gone through the things he had. God knows what she'd be like, if she had. Then, he got back into character and looked her over appraisingly.

"Where?" Immediately she reddened and looked at Storm. His lips quirked. Not so many things had changed. Storm, on the other hand, was exactly the same as he remembered. She frowned at him disapprovingly.

"Try to keep the rude comments to yourself, would you? Anyway, the rehabilitation would basically be re-acclimating you to life at the institute. You'd be restricted to the grounds, and I suppose we'd give you an anklet tracker, at least until we feel you can be trusted. You wouldn't have access to a lighter, for the same reasons as the tracker and house-arrest. You'd rejoin the student body, and we'd see how it went." John shook his head.

"Uh-uh. I don't think so. Hell will freeze over before I let you put a tracker on me and take away my fire."

"Well, technically, we've already taken away your fire." He curled his lip.

"I've told you what I know. What do I have to do to get you to let me go? I wasn't causing any trouble to anyone after the whole cure thing!" Kitty put a hand on Storm's arm.

"He did tell us what happened, and I know who attacked him."

"Yes, Hank told me. Emma Frost." Storm's expression darkened. "I've had… contact… with that woman. We will protect you, don't worry. As for you, John, I don't feel comfortable releasing you to burn all of New York."

"Burn all of- What are you, crazy? I live in New York!" As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

"Really? Where, pray tell, do you live?" Hank looked interested. Pyro gritted his teeth.

"Look. I am not going to incinerate the East Coast this week. Maybe in November, but I'm really booked for now. You know how it is. Now, will you just let me go? At least let me off this bed! God, I never should have come here."

"Well, it's good that you did," Hank offered. "Otherwise, you would be dead or insane, and Kitty would be in danger with no warning. Speaking of, why exactly did you warn her, anyway?" Kitty looked at him.

"I warned her because- shit, man, does it matter?" Wrong thing to say.

"Yes, actually. What were your motives?"

"Motives? I had no motives! Not everything is an evil plot with me, you know! I'm not Magnet Man!"

"No, you certainly are not." Storm sighed. "Hank, let him up."

"Finally!"

"But don't let him leave this room."

"What?!"

"And don't let anyone in here unless they have authorization from me."

"Hey!"

"I have to figure out what to do with him."

"'Do with me'?! I'm not a dog!"

"Kitty, you should stay in the mansion. Make sure you don't leave without alerting Logan or myself, and never go anywhere outside this school alone."

"Hello? Remember me? Your fucking CAPTIVE?"

"Hank, I'd like you to meet me in my office in about twenty minutes, okay? And could you bring Logan?"

"Sure, Storm. Would you like me to bring coffee?"

"Hey, I'd like some coffee."

"That would be lovely, Hank. Thank you."

"Just one cup?! Please?!"

"Kitty, off you go. You can visit him later, if you really want to."

"I'm right here, you know!"

And suddenly, Pyro was alone with the blue guy. Hank undid the restraints before hurriedly exiting. Pyro heard the click of a lock in the door and sat up, rubbing his wrists in complete disgust. He jumped off the bed, stretching and wobbling a bit before he regained his balance. He looked down. His wrists were welted and stinging. Pyro walked over to the door and tried the knob, just in case, slamming a fist against the paneled wood when it didn't budge.

But hey. At least he was off the stupid bed.

Kitty popped her head into the kitchen, getting a yelp from one of the newer kids whose name she hadn't learned yet as she stuck a hand through the wall to grab an apple.

"Sorry," Kitty said with as large a smile as she could manage before she phased back through the wall and raced to her room. Shutting the door, Kitty slid down to sit with her back against it and closed her eyes, taking a bite of her apple.

She didn't know what to feel. Fear, because of Emma Frost. Nervousness, because of John being back. Joy, because of John being back. Anger, because of John's mocking comments. Sadness, because of the strange hollowness she'd seen hidden behind his snarking tone and beneath the anger in his eyes. Uncertainty, because of the fleeting glances he'd given her that she thought, but couldn't be sure, were some cross between longing and fear. Embarrassment, because of the way he'd looked her up and down like he could see beneath every stitch of clothing she wore.

And when she'd first entered the room, he'd stared. Oh, how he'd stared. The look in his eyes had been so open that it made her stomach flutter. He'd looked so… she didn't even know how to describe it, but it was pretty much a mix of everything she was feeling now. And then he'd shuttered it away and been so cavalier, except when he was arguing with Storm. Even then, he'd acted like he couldn't care less about coming back to the institute. Like he couldn't care less about her.

But there had been those damned looks! And now she was so confused that she could do nothing but sit on her floor and munch on her apple, wishing that she herself were psychic. That would make everything so much easier. Kitty thumped her head against her door in frustration, letting out an irritated cry as her aggravation made her head phase halfway through the door before she caught it. He just made her so mad! She hated that he acted no differently than he had before the war. Mostly, though, she hated that he had just as much power over her as always, only now she couldn't help but be a little afraid of him along with being infatuated.

Well, she'd always been a little afraid of him. Now, though, she actually had a reason.

Damn it.

Kitty finished her apple and chucked it at her trashcan, missing by a mile. She got to her feet and stooped to pick up the core, dropping it carefully directly over the can. Flopping back on her bed, Kitty closed her eyes. She remembered all those long months ago when she accidentally phased through her bed during a nightmare and landed directly on top of rebellious, angry John Allerdyce, whom she had never spoken to before that night. He had cursed loudly and flailed an arm around her waist, trying to move her off him, which caused her to completely freak out. They'd ended up tangled in his sheets with her twisted around near the top of his bed and him halfway off, his hand fisted in his mattress cover to keep him from falling on the floor.

Flashback

"What the hell? Who the hell are you?" He sounded sleepy, confused, and pretty pissed off. Kitty gulped. She had, of course, seen him around the school. Everyone had. He was the troublemaker. He and Bobby Drake had tagteamed once to make Mr. Summers slip on a suddenly-frozen puddle and land with the seat of his pants inexplicably on fire, melting the puddle and soaking the now-ruined trousers. This trick, while admittedly hilarious, had landed the boys in detention for two weeks. Bobby had gone, but Kitty'd heard that John skipped every session.

"Uh," she said, sitting up and pulling the sheets away from her legs, "I'm Kitty Pryde." He yanked himself back onto the bed and reached for something. Kitty flinched. There was a clicking sound, and then a small flame lit up his face. She couldn't help but notice that he looked unbelievably cute with his hair sticking up all over the place like that.

"Okay," he said slowly. She flushed, realizing that it was a very awkward time for introductions.

"Um. Sorry about this. Really. My talent is phasing through things, and I guess your room is right below mine."

"You fell through the ceiling?"

"Kinda. Yeah." She cringed as he reached for her with his lighter hand, expecting him to grab her and burn her hair off. He was known for burning things, after all, and she had interrupted his sleep in the most embarrassing way she could think of. Instead of setting her hair on fire, John reached past her head to what she could now dimly see was a bedside table, and lit a candle there.

"Why?"

"Huh?" He leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out so that they rested in a diagonal with his bare feet about a foot away from her head.

"Why did you fall through the ceiling at…" He checked his watch. "… three in the morning?" Kitty gaped at him for a moment. This was John Allerdyce! He was supposed to yell at her, threaten her, anything but look so amused and ask her questions!

"I, uh, I had a bad dream." She had a terrible fear that he would ask her what her nightmare had been, but apparently her assessment of his character wasn't completely off, because he just rolled his eyes.

"Right. Well, Kitten, how about you just phase back through the ceiling and leave me to my beauty sleep?"

"It's Kitty."

"What?"

"My name. It's Kitty." He smiled at her, a wicked gleam in his shadowed eyes.

"Come on. When have I ever followed the rules?" Kitty stood and felt herself go into her intangible form, floating for the ceiling. Her heart was fluttering madly, and she gathered her courage. Just before she vanished completely, she stuck her head back through his ceiling. He was watching her go, an unreadable look on his face.

"Good night. Johnny." With that parting shot, Kitty gave a little shriek and phased into her own room as he leaped for her.

There were no more nightmares that night.

End Flashback

Kitty smiled, remembering that first real meeting. That had been the night she'd realized that she had a crush on the fire-manipulator. After that, he'd always acknowledged her, whether to make fun of her or to try and get her to blush, two of his favorite pastimes. And he'd always called her Kitten, though only when he was actually talking to her. The one time she'd overheard him mention her to Bobby, it had been Kitty.

Now, he was doing the same thing. Calling her that annoying nickname, alternating between teasing her, insulting her and flirting with her. Keeping up that devil-may-care attitude. But… there was something different, come to think of it. Some of the careless comments had sounded forced, and some of the insults were strangely embittered. Frowning, Kitty ran over the conversation in her head again. Yes. There had been something different. She had almost been fooled by the act, but now that she had time to think without his calculating, amused eyes and biting one-liners, Kitty could see it. He had looked at her differently, when he thought she wasn't looking. He had been faking some of, though not all of, his attitude. There was only one explanation: John- Pyro- was hiding something. And, no matter how much he complained and snapped, he had come here to warn her.

So. Kitty sat up, chewing on her lip. Now, all she had to do was figure out what he was hiding. What he was afraid of. Or… did she really want to? After all, this wasn't fun-loving, rule-ignoring Johnny she was working with. Pyro had seen things, done things, that she couldn't even imagine. Maybe the reason half the things he said were tinged with an unfamiliar sting was that he had burned away a part of him that would never come back. Kitty shivered, and shook off the uneasy feeling. Even if he had gone places she would never go, he had come back. Somehow, he had come back.

She knew what she had to do. She had to talk to him again.

Kitty got up and made for the door. Just before she left, she paused. He was locked up in that little room with nothing to distract him. He'd be bored. Even if he wasn't John, he'd be bored. Being John, though, she wouldn't be surprised if he dregged up some of his old chemistry knowledge and blew something up with the medicines in the cabinet in order to amuse himself. Wincing, she grabbed something off her shelf and left her room.

When Kitty reached the med lab, she again heard voices from inside. She tilted her head. It sounded like Bobby was in there. Squeaking, Kitty backpeddled. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a room with Bobby and Pyro. She'd come back later. Check on the damage. Maybe help Hank clean up the disaster zone that would no doubt be the med bay.

John paced for a while before deciding that pacing was useless and made him feel like he should be cackling to his Mini Me. He longed for a lighter, just for the comforting familiar feel of it. He went over the room in detail, opening cabinets and lifting equipment. There were a few things that would be great if he got desperate enough to kill himself, but nothing that would break him out. Unless… Pyro narrowed his eyes. There were scalpels, and there was a large stone paperweight holding a few printouts down. Metal plus rock equals, sometimes, sparks. And, as his mind continued on this track, Pyro noticed all the nicely contained chemicals lined up inside a small refrigerator near the door. He could always blow the door out of the wall.

Just as he was kneeling to check out exactly what he was working with, the door opened and shut very fast. John looked up to see Bobby icing the doorknob so that Pyro couldn't brain him with a filing cabinet and escape while the door was unlocked. Pyro straightened, going to lean against the wall to the right of the hated bed. Bobby cleared his throat, standing in front of the door and looking uncomfortable. He had that mulish look on his face, though, which made John deduce that a.) Rogue had made him come, and b.) he was not going to leave without saying his piece.

"Yo, Popsicle," he said coolly. He really wanted to sneer and say something along the lines of 'pussy-whipped', but there was the fact that he had no lighter.

"Firebug," Bobby returned in the same restrained tone that John was using.

"Freezee Treat."

"Sparky."

"Ice Cream."

"Lighter Fluid."

"'Lighter Fluid'? You're losing your touch, buddy-old-pal." Bobby huffed out a breath.

"Look, John, I don't know what you think you're doing here, but-" Pyro held up his hands, shaking his head and laughing a little.

"Whoa, there. What I'm doing here? You actually think I want to be here? If I could, I wouldn't be!"

"But you came back here," Bobby said stubbornly. "And I just wanted you to know that you can't just come back and expect everyone to forget what you did. Because we won't. But… maybe Logan and Hank are right. Maybe you should be back here," he finished grudgingly.

"Rogue tell you to say that? God, man, I never thought I'd see the day when Bobby Drake was putty in the hands of some chick."

"Shut up about her!" Pyro smiled.

"See, we're getting along fine already." He spread his hands. "I mean, come on, Bob-o, I could never come back here!"

"You already did. When you had nowhere else to turn, you did."

"I could have gone somewhere else. I wasn't that bad off. I just wanted to talk to Kitty," John protested angrily.

"I was the one who let you in," Bobby told him quietly. The other teen fell silent, the irritated look fading from his face. Bobby continued. "I saw how 'bad off' you were, John." Pyro could think of nothing to say. He just stared at his ex-best friend, head churning with emotions he really, really didn't want to feel. Embarrassment. Surprise. Confusion. And… gratitude? Bobby shook his head. "I'm not saying I forgive you. You did some pretty awful things. I wish I hated you; everything would be so much easier that way. But… but you didn't tell that woman about Kitty, and you came back here to warn her."

"So what, you're welcoming me back? Gonna give me a hug?" John tried for a scoff, but it came off sounding quiet and wounded, like a rabid wolf that has been cornered and shot. Bobby's eyes were filled with a nameless compassion that both soothed and seared him.

"Nah. I'm not welcoming you back. I'm letting you come home."

Pyro stared at Bobby, stunned. He couldn't have been more surprised if Bobby had suddenly ripped away his jeans to reveal a hula skirt. He was torn between wanting to sneer and laugh it off, like he would have if he were still part of the Brotherhood and had his fire and his freedom, and wanting, surprisingly badly, to accept the olive branch. He felt like he should be feeling guilty for what he'd done, and actually felt a little guilty because he DIDN'T feel guilty. He'd done what he'd had to do. What he'd been born to do.

"What?" That was what he finally managed to say. Brilliantly worded, of course.

"And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll freeze your intestines and make you eat them."

"Right," Pyro murmured, smoothing a hand down his pants leg. There was a brief silence, and then- "Why would you do that? Knowing what I've done?" Bobby looked taken aback at how calm Pyro sounded. Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd grown up.

"No," Bobby answered honestly. They were neither of them children anymore, but John's maturity was a result of a whole different kind of hell than Bobby's natural course of adolescence that had, okay, been jumped up by that final battle at Alcatraz. "I don't know what you've done. Not even half. You… you could tell me." He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to know, but part of Bobby was insanely curious as to what exactly had happened to the youth who had once been his friend to give him this new edge of mystery and mayhem. For a split-second, Pyro actually looked like he was considering it. Then, his expression changed. Now, he looked like he was considering whether or not to tell Bobby to go to hell. Despite himself, Bobby bit the inside of his lip. He didn't trust Pyro. He really didn't like who he'd become. And yet somehow, part of him didn't want the other boy to tell him to screw himself. Part of him couldn't help but look at Pyro and see someone who had once been, could possibly in the distant future be again, a friend.

Finally, though really only a few seconds had gone by, Pyro smirked.

"A therapist you are not. Get out of here, Popsicle," he said, waving a hand at the door. His tone was dismissive, but at least two degrees warmer than it had been in the beginning. Bobby gave an equally wary-but-slightly-more-accepting sneer and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. As he strolled towards the kitchen, his face was caught between an uncertain frown… and a reluctant smile.

Author's Note: Movie-Bobby always struck me as having what I call the Will Turner syndrome: he's just a genuinely good person. So I'm writing him as one. This does not mean that he's gonna just forgive Pyro for being a traitorous bastard, because that would be both unrealistic and boring ;)


	4. O Foolish Poets

_**I'd Walk Through Hell Ch. 5**_

Kitty ducked around the corner just as Bobby vanished in the other direction. She'd been waiting nearby and had heard no crashes, screams, curses or explosions. It couldn't have gone that badly. Gulping, she gripped the item she'd brought from her room and made for the door as Hank came out of a room across the hall.

"Oh, has Bobby left?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Just a second ago. Can I see him, please?" The blue doctor smiled down at her, his eyes catching on what she held clenched in one hand.

"What's that?"

"It's just something I brought… to keep him from getting too bored, you know." Hank rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Interesting choice." Kitty looked down at it, shrugging.

"I thought he'd like it."

"You're probably right. Out of curiosity, why do you have it? I thought you weren't all that interested in such things."

"I'm actually not sure where I got it. I've had it for a long time. So, can I visit him? Storm already said I could, but if you don't want me too, I won't." Hank waved a hand in the air.

"Oh, no, I'm sure it'll be fine. After all, it's not like he can touch you. Just try not to get into another fight. We don't want to alienate him any more than we already have. Now, I have to go meet with Storm and Logan, so I guess I'll let you be."

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, Mr. Macoy. Thanks!" She waved, and entered the room without bothering with the locked door. John had his back to her. He was leaning with his palms flat against the wall, head down, feet braced apart.

Kitty cleared her throat.

"Uh…" He spun around, expression unreadable. It was the same blank expression he'd had that terrible day at Alcatraz. "Don't do that!"

"Do what?"

"Don't look at me like that." His lip curved up.

"What would you prefer, Kitty-Cat?" She ignored that, going to sit gingerly on the bed.

"I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For coming here. And warning me, I mean." She felt a corner bite into her palm. "Oh, and I brought you something." Kitty held out her hand. Pyro came over and took what she offered, looking at it with a small frown.

"'A Virgin From a Chilly Decade'?" She ducked her head a little, speaking quickly.

"It's, um, it's poetry. I remembered that you liked to write, and I thought you'd be bored in here all by yourself. It's by this guy Michael Strunge. He was a real rebel. A lot of the poetry, it, um, kind of reminded me of you. There's this one, I read it a while ago- I haven't actually read that in a long time, but I remember, and-" John was smiling just a little now. He raised the hand with the slim book, cutting her off.

"You're rambling, Kitten." She pointed at the book, finishing self-consciously,

"It's the first one. 'The Pace of Life'." Pyro nodded, coming over to lean against the wall next to the bed. He folded his arms, the book still in one hand.

"So. First Bobby, then you. Everyone's trying to get me 'acclimated'."

"What?" He waved it off.

"Nothing."

"And I really did want to thank you. I didn't get the chance, before."

"Too busy snapping at me." She glared at him indignantly.

"Well, you were snapping at me before I was snapping at you!" He chuckled.

"Relax, Kitten, and it's no big deal." Pyro couldn't quite make himself say 'you're welcome'. She smiled nervously, but did not relax in the least. He grinned at her. "What is it? Afraid I'm gonna grab some chemicals and start a fire?" Kitty laughed, a panicky sound, as he unwittingly echoed her previous fears.

"So? Are you… going to stay?" The grin faded from his face, and for a moment, his eyes darkened visibly. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. And no."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" She had no way to safely answer that question, so she tried to come up with something- anything- plausible.

"Well, it would give you a home. And friends. After a while, because everybody's afraid of you," she finished somewhat lamely. He gazed at her, the unreadable expression back.

"Are you?"

"What?" He unfolded the arm with the book and pointed the spine at her.

"Afraid of me."

"Yes," Kitty answered plainly. She winced a little, half expecting him to lunge at her or look hurt or something else that would mess up her equilibrium. Instead, he nodded.

"Good girl," Pyro said simply. Then, without missing a beat, he refolded his arm and tilted his head. "So. Any idea how long it's gonna be before Stormy decides what to do with me?" Kitty blinked.

"Um. No. She's talking with Logan and Dr. Macoy right now. It could be hours, knowing Logan."

"I thought he wanted me to stay."

"Well, that might be true, but Logan can never just agree with anyone. He'll have to argue, just to save his reputation." They shared a brief laugh before suddenly falling into an awkward silence. Pyro stopped because he was getting dangerously close to having fun with Kitty, and that would only lead to trouble. Now, he wasn't only worried about Emma Frost finding them; he was worried that, by getting too close to him, the Cat would get scorched. Kitty stopped because she suddenly remembered that maybe it wasn't a good idea to get too comfortable alone in a room with a terrorist. Especially this one.

"Well."

"Yeah," he said shortly. Kitty swallowed, the moment lost.

"So, um, what have you really been doing since… you know?"

"Nothing." Pyro looked moody now, his fingers clenching and relaxing repeatedly on the spine of the volume of poetry.

"I missed you, you know," Kitty said out of the blue. She was looking at her hands, fisted in her lap. "After you left at Alkali Lake." She kept the words plain, and didn't let too much feeling into them. It shouldn't be a surprise to him, after all. She suspected that many people, Bobby and Rogue especially, had missed him.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have." She looked up at him in surprise. He raised a brow. "Isn't that a little un-X-Man-like? Missing the bad guy?"

"John, you aren't the bad guy anymore," she protested. He moved faster than she'd ever imagined he could, and suddenly she was back against the headboard of the bed, his arms slammed down on either side of her shoulders, his face inches from her own.

"Yes, I am, Kitten," Pyro breathed. She stared at him, frozen, her breath coming in frightened little pants. She could always phase right through him, but she didn't move. Pyro studied her, his eyes stormy and flickering with something dangerous, before pulling away and straightening as fast and smoothly as he'd trapped her. "Thanks for the poems," he said, picking up the slender book from where it had fallen. Kitty stood shakily, and gathered her calm.

"I have to go now," she said evenly, walking towards the door. Pyro watched her go. She turned back just before exiting, and he hurriedly wiped the pained expression off his face. Her eyes narrowed just a tad, but she said nothing. And then she was gone.

Pyro sat down heavily on the much-despised bed, the book of poems in his hand. He hadn't expected it to hurt this much. And, almost worse, he hadn't expected it to feel so good. It had been a long time since he second-guessed himself, or was perturbed by something he'd done, but now Pyro felt a little sick. Scaring Kitty like that, showing her that, lighter or no lighter, he was someone to be feared, had sent a thrill of excitement down his spine. He shook his head.

"Fuck me," he muttered to himself. Then, on an impulse, he flipped open the book of poetry to the first one, as she'd suggested. The Pace of Life. Slowly, he read it aloud to fill the silence. He'd always hated silence.

"'Break my watch with my thoughts. I live only at the pace of life. Change quickly into new disguise. I need changes at the pace of life. Form a contrast, need no camouflage. Sick and tired of not being myself. Change my color, anarchist chameleon. Drop my mask after I'd been dead. Finally it seems I know I don't have an unchanging self. Who knows what one's self is like? I don't care. Make my self myself. Change speed, I need a different speed. I change my life before it changes me.'" He stared at the page for a moment, considering. 'I change my life before it changes me.' Did that mean she wanted him to beat back… whatever it was… that he'd become? Fight against the changes war had wrought? Or was it too late for that? Pyro remembered the rush he'd felt, pinning her. Was he already too far gone? Uneasy, he flipped through the book.

"'The fall is like life itself," he read, finding one at random, "the speed increases towards the goal: nothing. Nearest becomes furthest, streaks of speed and between heaven and earth you will soon know nothingness as from heaven fallen, fallen heaven, the body, the rocket nears ground as the world draws nearer.'" John closed his eyes. In one sense, the words made no sense at all. In another, he completely understood: falling, unable to stop it, everything crashing down in a confused jumble of truth and lies, betrayal and hatred, love and fear. Alone in the room, his act fell away and he was just John, the fragile world he'd built for himself after the defeat at Alcatraz going up in wild flames that even he could not control. Feverishly, he flipped through the pages again.

"'I sit in a lighted room, looking out into night. Inside me there is also night and in this inner darkness I look through a window into a lighted room. Nobody is there, only light, and round it only inner darkness. If I go down into the street and look up towards the window I'll see the same thing as my inner night.'" As he thought about this, he decided that it, too, made a strange kind of sense. He felt a careful peace enter him at these new words as their meaning hit him: yes, he did have a darkness inside of him, but this darkness could be found in everyone and everywhere and it was possible to defeat it.

If he really wanted to.

As soon as he thought that, Pyro shook his head sharply to erase it. His days as a god of destruction wielded by Magneto, where he was lost in the flames and fully prepared for the darkness to consume him, were over. Magneto was gone for now, and if he did come back, Pyro would not be rejoining him. He was his own person again, and he wasn't about to lose himself to that darkness. Not again.

Not to say, of course, that he would become one of the happy little X-Geeks. Hell, no. Grateful as he was to Bobby for his tentative offer of acceptance, Pyro just didn't think he was built to be a hero. He would keep the shades of danger that had grown around his soul, and he would use them for his own good. Pyro had gotten good at that. He was adaptable, just like fire. He could work with whatever he had to ensure his own survival. He was right to have scared Kitty, just a bit, because otherwise she would not know when to step away from the flames. The best thing for him to do was to convince the X-Men to let him go, and to disappear. Maybe return to the land of his birth, Australia. As he decided this, Pyro shut the book of poems and laid it on the bed beside him before laughing ruefully at himself. Yeesh. He sounded like some sort of hybrid between Magneto (all that bullshit about accepting power, however destructive), Logan (the whole deal with finding his own way, giving his loyalty to no one), and an inspirational speaker (you can do it! don't give in to your murderous urges!). It was kind of scary.

But, corny or no, he was decided. He would leave all this behind him.

Of course, Pyro was no psychic. He couldn't possibly know that, at that very moment, Kitty was putting on her resolve face as she went about planning how to break down his walls if it was the last thing she did. And when Kity was determined, there was pretty much nothing that could get in her way. After all, the girl could just walk through any barriers.

And neither of them could possibly know that Emma Frost, as she sat at the hairdresser's, watching as the last few scorched bits fell away, was clenching her fists so hard the manicured nails almost drew blood. And, as the hairdresser gave her a mirror to admire the back of her new, chic 'do, she was smiling.

It was not a pleasant smile.


	5. Blackmail and Unsettling Dreams

Chapter Six

It was almost seven in the evening when Storm, Hank and Logan finally returned with their verdict. Pyro had gone through the book of poetry twice. He'd built a complicated tower/castle with about fifty bottles of medicine. He'd thought about blowing the door off its hinges and had decided against it…. Better to not piss these people off more than he already had. For now. He'd taken as long as he could to eat the tray of food Rogue had brought him when she wouldn't stay to talk to him. Classes and loathing, you know. Finally, he'd gotten so indescribably bored as to actually do what Mystique had once spent three precious hours teaching him (much to her disgust and Magneto's amusement): yoga.

He'd walked in on her in one of the rooms they used for sparring, wanting to do some working out of his own, and she'd been in the middle of limbering up. Apparently Mystique, being a black belt in every possible martial art there was, did yoga as a way to stretch out her body. When he'd walked in, the blue-skinned woman had been in a near-impossible backbend, her slick red hair brushing against the floor.

"Holy shit," Pyro had made the mistake of saying. She'd flipped upright, landing in one of those feline, seductively deadly crouches of hers, and had arched a brow.

"Get out," Mystique had told him politely. "Before I take those igniters and shove them up your throat." Somehow that encounter had led to Magneto watching over his newspaper as Mystique, with plenty of eye-rolls and harsh comments, taught Pyro how to bend. While he was nowhere near as flexible as she, with as much practice as Magneto made him do, eventually Pyro actually learned it. After he successfully completed the regiment she'd set for him, Pyro could have sworn that there was a hint of pride in Mystique's mostly-impassive face. (Magnet Man had decided that it would be good for his most promising recruit to be able to fight face-to-face, just in case something happened to his lighters, and trusted Mystique enough to know that, as she was the best face-to-face fighter they had, her methods of training were best.)

Now, Pyro had his feet flat on the floor, as well as his palms, the fingers pointing towards his heels. They were the only things touching the ground, as the rest of him was arched up, his stomach curving towards the ceiling. He gradually straightened his arms until they were fully extended, making his entire body looked like an upside-down U. Carefully, he lifted his left arm to point it straight up, balancing on the balls of his feet and his right palm.

That, naturally, was when Storm and the others walked in.

Pyro managed not to fall hard onto his back, and instead collapsed out of the backbend as gracefully as he could, landing crouched on his heels. He would have tried a flip, because they looked so cool, but he had never been good at those and was afraid he'd do a faceplant.

Everyone's eyebrows were very close to disappearing, they were raised so high.

"What are you looking at," Pyro said, annoyed. Hank coughed and shrugged his shoulders a little. Storm's lips twitched, but she smoothed her face out and managed to look as impassive as Mystique. Logan stuck his tongue behind his teeth, smirking, and didn't bother to lower his brows. The teenager curled his lip at Wolverine, which only caused the older man's smirk to widen.

"We've decided what to do with you." Pyro rocked back on his heels, resting his back against the wall. He stretched out his legs comfortably, and folded his arms.

"Do tell."

"You have a criminal record. Ordinarily, we would release you into police custody. From there, you would most likely be put into solitary, and what with all the hubbub these days, you'd probably be cured. However. Seeing as you were one of ours, and both Logan and Hank are vouching for you, I have decided to put you on probation here."

"What? What do you mean, probation?"

"You obviously don't want to stay-" Pyro snorted, and Storm continued over him, "- and it's true, you haven't been causing trouble in the months since the battle at Alcatraz. But Emma Frost has already attacked you once, and, knowing her, even if you weren't an easily-located target for her she'd come after you again anyway. You say you deflected her with a fireball? That would definitely make Emma mad."

"What do you mean by easily-located?"

"She's already tasted your mind, Pyro," Storm said calmly. "It won't be overly hard for her to find you again."

"So why keep me here? Wouldn't you want me as far away from you guys as possible? As far away from Kitty as possible?" Logan growled, looking at Storm. She cleared her throat.

"Ah. About that. We've, ah, decided that the best way to deal with Emma Frost is to lure her into a trap. She will not expect you to have warned us. She will, however, expect us to have captured you and be holding you against your will. With this probation idea, you will both have protection from her and give us the necessary edge to defeat her when she comes for Kitty." Logan looked unhappy about the whole idea, but said nothing. Pyro held up a finger as if to say, 'pause'.

"So you're using us as bait? Kitty and me, I mean?"

"'Bait' is such an ugly term," Storm said, a tinge of evilness to her voice. Pyro was impressed. He'd always known Storm was tough, but this was a new level for her.

"What exactly would this probation thing be? Because if you want to stick a tracker on me, I-"

"No. No tracker. It has come to our attention that you are particularly good at looking after number one, John. And at the moment, you are in very serious danger from Emma Frost, and your best chance of survival is to stay with us. If you run away, you will have no protection when she comes after you with a vengeance. You think you were in bad shape when you came here? I've seen what can happen when Emma gets mad. There would be nothing left of you. We will allow you to keep your lighter. If you betray the responsibility we're giving you, you will a.) be forced out of the mansion, and b.) put Kitty into even more danger. These terms are only good for as long as Frost is a threat. Once she is taken care of, one way or another, you will either submit to our rehabilitation program with all the details I gave previously, or you will go to prison."

"What!"

"Mutual fear of Emma Frost is what will keep you here at the present. After she is no longer a threat, we will have no reason whatsoever to trust you. Whether or not you have lived peacefully for a few months, you are a murderer and a wanted terrorist. Did you really think we'd let you go? Honestly, though, John, you should consider yourself lucky. Would it really be that bad to stay here and go through a simple rehab program when your only other choice is prison for life?" Pyro gritted his teeth, jumping to his feet.

"That's blackmail! That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair. You of all people should know that."

"You're supposed to be the good guys! Aren't you too perfect to resort to blackmail?"

"We're X-Men, not saints," Logan growled. John had nothing more to say. If only he had his goddamn lighter! He'd burn this place to cinders! Only no, he wouldn't, because Storm was right. She usually was. For the time being, he had no choice but to stay. After the Frost lady was taken out, though… well, he'd be damned if he went along with either of those shitty choices! He had incentive to stay for now, but if they honestly thought they could hold him against his will, they were wrong. He'd have his lighter back by then. He'd show them he was no kid to be sent to his room.

"Fine," Pyro agreed reluctantly. "I'll stick around until this Frost person does whatever she's gonna do." He deliberately made no mention of afterwards, and none of the others called him on it.

"Oh, and John? One more thing. We'd like you to stay close to Kitty."

"You want me to what?!" Oh, man, they just weren't cutting him any breaks here!

"She's probably the only person we don't have to worry about you hurting, considering her powers, and our plan to use you two to draw Emma here will work better if your minds are concentrated together." Pyro smiled to himself, remembering the way Kitty had frozen up when he'd pinned her. Were they so sure of her invulnerability? But something told him that Logan would not especially appreciate hearing that, so he just sighed disgustedly.

"How long do you think this is gonna take?" Hank and Logan moved for the door. Storm followed, looking back just before she left. The look on her face did not help his nerves.

"Oh, I imagine it won't take long at all."

That night, Pyro actually went to sleep without being sedated. His elbow, bruised from all the needle pricks, was grateful.

His mind, as it turned out, wasn't.

At around midnight, Hank rushed into the med bay after being woken by the sound of cries coming through the intercom beside his bed. He flipped on the light switch, knotting the belt of his XXX maroon dressing gown, gasping from the run.

Pyro was thrashing in the bed, his hands clenched into fists, his brow knotted in fear and consternation. Small grunts and short, wordless cries punctuated what appeared to be a nasty nightmare. Hank went to the bed and placed a hand on the teenager's shoulder lightly, not wanting to startle him.

"John. John, wake up." There appeared to be no effect. Pyro flung his head back, the tendons in his throat jumping with stress as his legs scissored beneath the sheets. Hank shook him gently. "Pyro! Pyro, open your eyes. It's just a nightmare. Pyro!"

"Red," the boy muttered, one hand coming up to clench beside his temple, "all of it's… just… red!"

Hank tried again, to no avail. Worry overtook fatigue, and the doctor went to the sink and filled a cup with cold water. He dumped the water on Pyro's head, remembering times when he had been woken from nightmares in a similar manner. John coughed and sputtered, eyes flying open to glare at the blue man peering anxiously down at him.

"What the hell was that?"

"You were having a nightmare. I heard you through the intercom." Pyro sat up, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Sonofabitch," he said very quietly, before glancing at Hank. "You can go now." Frowning a bit, the doctor exited.

Left alone, Pyro groaned softly and slumped back down. That had been so… vivid. It had been like a reenactment of one of the first times he'd attacked on his own: at the Cure Center. Only in the nightmare, he hadn't left after sending fire shooting into the lower level of the center. He'd been inside it, one of the people screaming wildly and milling about, tripping over each other and trampling the fallen, choking on smoke and blinded by flames as he tried, desperately, to duck between two blazing figures and find a way out. And then, just as suddenly, he'd been himself again, standing outside the burning building, a cruel, wicked half-smile on his face, both hands engulfed in flames.

Shaking his head, Pyro cleared his mind. He hadn't had nightmares about the things he'd done for Magneto before. In fact, he hadn't really thought about most of them until Emma Frost ripped through his mind, bringing up those memories and sifting through them like memos on her desk.

Was that the reason for the nightmare? Something told him yes. She'd given him the nightmare, breaking down his mental blocks and letting every awful thing he'd done run rampant. The drugs had kept her out, but now he was not drugged and she was punishing him in his sleep, biding her time before she finished the job.

Pyro's eyes narrowed dangerously. Tomorrow, he would have his lighter back. He was no one to mess with, even if you **were** an insanely powerful psychic.


	6. Rehabilitating the Devil

Chapter Seven

When he woke up the next morning, the door was unlocked. His lighter sat on the pillow next to his head, along with a folded piece of paper. John opened the paper, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"'Don't screw up'," he read aloud. The simple note was written in a dark, blocky scrawl. "Thank you, Badger," Pyro muttered before tossing the paper onto the floor and scooping up his lighter. "Hey, sweetheart," he whispered to the beloved old Zippo, "good to have you back." Pyro flicked the cap, relishing in the clicking sound it made as metal hit metal, and thumbed the gears. A flame burst up, just like always. He'd had a sudden and irrational fear that they'd taken the lighter fluid, but no. Storm had kept her word.

Pyro got out of bed. Something fell to the floor as he kicked the sheets away from his legs. It was a pair of jeans, still creased from being folded. He picked them up, noting a familiar scorch mark a few inches below the left knee from an unfortunate prank-gone-wrong incident over a year ago: they were his own jeans. He looked at the foot of the bed. There was one of his old white long-sleeved shirts and a black Sid Vicious T-shirt, both neatly folded. A small, hotel-room-type bottle of shampoo was on top of them. Pyro grinned. Someone giving him a hint?

He picked up the clothes and the shampoo, still holding the Zippo, and cautiously left the room. No one. The hall was empty. A clock on the far wall gave the time as eleven-thirty. Everyone would be in classes by now. It took a moment for him to get his bearings, but soon Pyro remembered the way to the nearest shower. He ducked into the bathroom and locked the door, thankful not to have run into any students on the way. That would have been awkward. He had no problem with confronting X-Men-in-training when he was clean, fed and lounging around somewhere, lighter in hand. He did, however, have a problem with confronting anyone while darting through the halls, sleep-mussed and clutching a pile of clothing.

After showering, Pyro pulled on the clean clothes and stood in front of the mirror as the steam faded away, adjusting the black Sid Vicious shirt over the white long-sleeved one. He narrowed his eyes at his reflection, raking a hand through his now-blond hair and causing it to sweep up and back in a cross between his old look and the way he usually wore his hair these days. One rebellious strand fell back, arching down over his forehead rakishly. He picked up his lighter from the sink counter and flicked the lid, raising a brow nonchalantly. Yup. He was ready to take on this school, and everybody in it.

Pyro strolled through the empty halls of the Xavier Institute, heading for the kitchen. It felt weird to be back here, walking around. Like something out of a doped-up dream. He kept expecting to see evil clowns jumping out, or to get grabbed and thrown back into that horrid little room to the sound of Wolverine's laughter, saying, 'Oh, just kidding!' But there were (thank God) no clowns, and he was not stopped. He made it all the way to the kitchen without a single interruption. He passed by a few classrooms, and heard the muted sounds of voices; though tempted to stop and poke his head in just to see how many people screamed, he restrained himself. That would probably be considered 'screwing up'.

Once inside the kitchen, Pyro opened the fridge and pulled out a Coke. He poured himself a bowl of Fruit Loops, set both bowl and soda on the table, and grabbed a spoon before sitting down. Dropping the spoon into the bowl, Pyro hooked another chair with his ankle and dragged it over closer. He swung his legs up to rest on the chair, popped the tab of his Coke, and shoveled up some cereal.

Ten minutes later, a bell rang somewhere. John was halfway through his soda, and lazily finishing off his cereal when he heard the sounds of a stampede. Lunchtime. He smiled to himself, raised the can to his lips again, and swallowed. 'Make that showtime', he thought gleefully. A small part of him was nervous, but it was a very small part. The rest of him was just glad that there would be some way of entertaining himself while he was trapped here: scaring all the nice little kids without even making a move. Sometimes it was really good to have a rep.

The first person to rush into the kitchen was a boy of about fourteen. He had brown hair, and looked pretty nondescript. John didn't recognize him. The kid pulled up short when he noticed that someone was already sprawled comfortably at the table, his eyes going confused.

"Who're you," he asked. He sounded British. Pyro tilted his head.

"Name's Pyro," he said slyly. The kid looked blank, and then suddenly recognition and horror dawned in his eyes. John had to force himself not to snicker. Instead, he just took another sip of his soda and went back to finishing his Fruit Loops. The kid pointed at him, trembling just a little. Really, this was too easy.

"You- you're the fire guy! The one who-"

"Hey, Kevin, what's the holdup? You said you were bringing us all drinks!" It was an Asian girl with a bright, peppy voice and very colorful clothing that Pyro vaguely remembered as Jubilee. She walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator, not noticing Kevin's look of shock or the impromptu guest.

"Jubilee, Pyro is eating Fruit Loops in our kitchen," the Brit said very quietly. This time, Pyro couldn't help himself. He snorted, almost getting soda up his nose.

"Observant, this one," he said brightly. "Hey, Jubes." The Asian girl spun around so fast her hair slapped against the other side of her face, mouth flying open.

"What!" Pyro, the soda can empty, set it on the table with a clang. He was about to slurp down the rest of his cereal milk when he caught sight of flickering colors in Jubilee's hand. Instantly, there was the click of a Zippo and a ball of flame danced through Pyro's fingers, the ethereal grace of it clearly distracting the other teen.

"Let's cut the fireworks, huh, Jubes? I've heard they don't do so well indoors."

"What are you doing here?" She sounded angry and concerned, and also really curious. He'd forgotten what a gossipmonger she was. However, the fireworks were gone.

"He's helping me," came a new voice as Kitty rose up through the floor. Pyro looked at her. She looked right back, and he wasn't certain he liked the determined expression on her pretty face. Kitty smiled brightly at him. He frowned back uncertainly. She wasn't acting like he'd expected. It was as if he had done nothing to worry her at all. In his surprise, the flames winked out. Her smile widened a bit, if that was possible.

"Good morning, Johnny," Kitty said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Pyro's mouth opened a tiny bit, but he quickly turned the expression into a heated grin.

"Kitten. You're looking… tasty." Her cheeks reddened, but she didn't freak out like she had the other day. Instead, she reached out, stole his bowl, and put it in the sink. "Hey!"

"You were just gonna leave it on the table and you know it." Jubilee and Kevin were watching this interaction, looking stunned. Jubilee finally tapped Kitty's shoulder.

"Uh, Kit-Kat? What is he doing here? Isn't he… uh, isn't he kinda the enemy?" Kitty hesitated. The corners of John's mouth turned up snidely as he looked at her, keeping his eyes wide and innocent.

"Yeah, Kitten, aren't I… kinda the enemy?" For an instant, she glared at him. Then, she tossed a smile over her shoulder at Jubilee.

"He came to warn me about something, and he's staying for a while. Just until a few things get cleared up."

"He's STAYING? Isn't he gonna, like, blow up the mansion and laugh at our burning bodies?" Pyro looked back to Kitty, thoroughly enjoying himself. The dark thoughts from the day before were at the back of his mind, as he really had no choice but to stay, at least for now. Might as well make the best of it.

"No," Kitty said with that cute little nose up in the air as she frowned at Jubilee. "Storm has it all under control. He won't burn the place down. He's not stupid."

"I wasn't saying he was stupid, but he's one of Magneto's lackeys! He's supposed to want us all dead!"

"He's not anymore. And anyway, like I SAID, he's helping me."

"Uh, actually, I'm not," Pyro interjected. Kitty ignored him.

"He made a deal with Storm and Logan. Let's just leave it at the fact that he has no choice but to stay, and he has no choice but to not hurt us."

"I'm, ah, going to go back to the game room," Kevin said softly. He still looked a little off-balance. Jubilee scooped some sodas into her arms and grabbed a bag of chips from the counter, eying Pyro as she backed out of the room after the Brit.

Once the two other kids were gone, Kitty let out a breath and plopped down at the table. John stared at her.

"What was that all about?"

"I was telling Jubes why you were here."

"I know THAT." He frowned suspiciously. "What exactly did Storm tell you?"

"It was Logan, and he just said that you guys had worked something out and you were gonna, like, stay for a while so that Frost couldn't get you." Pyro's brows lifted a hair. Did this mean what he thought it meant?

"That was it? That was all he told you?"

"Yeah. Why?" He waved a hand.

"Nothing. Just, uh, just hoping he told you more than he told me. You know, about Psycho Psychic and all." Inwardly, he was stuck between a frown and a grin. Frown, because Kitty didn't know she was being used as bait. Grin, because Kitty didn't know that he had been expressly ordered to stick close to her.

"Oh. No, I guess we're both kind of in the dark on that one." She smiled at him.

"Yeah, whatever."

"So, Pyro, want to take a tour? Remind yourself where everything is? I'll be your tour guide." John blinked at the oddly perky teenager. Shouldn't she be trying to avoid him? Shouldn't she be angry, or uncomfortable, or disgusted with him because of what he'd done the other day? Kitty noticed his consternation with a secret smile. Her plan was working.

"Uh, I-"

"Great! Let's go!" She grabbed his arm, looping her hand through his elbow and dragging him out of his chair.

"Ow! Hey!"

"I'll make sure to re-introduce you to everyone. Plenty of people to scare witless," she added, winking. Pyro wrinkled his nose at her in confusion and she giggled, phasing them through the door that had swung shut after Jubilee left. He reeled.

"Don't do that!"

"Oh, you'll get used to it." What was that supposed to mean? Was she going to be dragging him all through the mansion now? Literally? Pyro yanked his arm out of her grasp and pulled out his lighter, finding comfort in the steady click-snap of the lid opening and closing. Whatever was going on with Kitty, it was time to take back the controls.


	7. Barks and Bites

Chapter Eight

Dead silence.

An unusual thing in the Xavier Institute at lunchtime.

Kitty's smile was getting just a little strained as she looked around the game room at the students frozen in various positions around the fooseball and pinball tables, sitting in armchairs, or just standing around. All silent. All staring. Beside her, Pyro seemed to have regained his footing after her disconcerting first impression, and was leaning against the door frame, lighter in hand. Kitty glanced at him. He eyed her, and it was perfectly clear that he was just barely restraining the sniggers. She gave him the patented Kitty Pryde Glare of Megadeath. He widened his eyes at her innocently, but his mouth was still twitching dangerously.

"Don't you dare laugh," Kitty hissed at him out of the corner of her mouth. John sucked his cheeks in and winked at her. Well. He really **had** regained his footing. Shoot. Kitty then turned to the still-frozen tableau. "Uh, hey, guys! You all remember John, right? Oh, for those of you who don't know him, this is John Allerdyce. Say hi to the nice mutants, Johnny." There. Who's laughing now?! She smiled proudly at him. And then squeaked when Pyro, moving with that same unearthly (in her opinion) speed, was suddenly right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. He squeezed her playfully.

"I thought we agreed to cut the suspense, Kitten," he said loudly. "Tell them about the twins!" She twisted her head to stare at him, shocked. He **was** snickering now; she could feel his chest moving. Kitty stepped **through** his arms, ignoring his shudder. Okay, she was relishing in it.

"Pyro is gonna be staying here for awhile."

"Because of the twins?" It was Rogue, sounding dryly amused.

"He's, like, helping me with something." The other students, taking their example from Rogue, seemed to have realized that Pyro wasn't a threat. More or less. Sam spoke up.

"Right. Pregnancy's gotta be hard on a single mom." Kitty glared first at Sam, then at Rogue. The first looked mildly accepting, and mildly amused. The second looked... well, caught between wanting to laugh at Kitty and wanting to yell at Pyro.

"I am not-" John bit his lip. This was going better than he'd thought. No way was he going to be a pawn in whatever Kitty's game was!

"Aw," Jubilee said, interrupting Kitty, "can I be godmother?"

"I am not pregnant with John's babies!" Her shriek rang in the air. And that, of course, was the moment that Logan walked in.

The stocky man looked at Kitty. Looked at John. Kitty gulped.

"We were, ah, I mean, it's not like, it was his fault, I didn't, we were just introducing- I mean, I was introducing him to-" Logan walked out.

John was smirking. Kitty narrowed her eyes dangerously at him, taking cruel pleasure in the way he swallowed. Her look was very clear: You. Will. Pay.

Just then, as they stared at each other, a new voice shouted something into the silence.

"Um, hello?! Have you guys forgotten that he's our enemy?! He almost killed Bobby!" Kitty couldn't place the voice, and any chance she had of recognizing it was gone because almost as soon as the last word finished, other people started yelling. Rogue and Jubilee were the only ones quiet. Jubilee had her 'tell me everything later' look on, and Rogue... well, Rogue just had her gaze fixed steadily on Pyro.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Kitty gasped for breath after her shout, cringing just in case the windows shattered above her. There was a rattle, but no broken glass. Everybody shut up. No one was used to quiet, friendly Kitty screaming at them. "Okay. Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. John did some bad things, it's true, but he's not doing them anymore. The reason he's here is that-"

"He's trying to kill us all in our sleep!"

"-IS THAT- are you listening now? Good. The reason he's here is that he risked himself and his freedom to warn me about something that probably saved my life. So leave him alone." One of the newer students, a dark-skinned, blond-haired boy named Evan who was related to Storm, stepped forward. He shook his arms, and long spikes slid out to jut from his forearms. He barred them across his chest, preparing to throw. He glared at Pyro.

"Maybe so, but he's also a traitor. He betrayed the X-Men, and he tried to kill Iceman! And the rest of you guys! Are you saying we just forget about that?!" Kitty opened her mouth, but John was already moving towards Evan, leaning in to invade the shorter boy's personal space. A fireball hovered in his left palm as he sneered.

"You wanna go, Spikey?" Evan held his ground defiantly.

"Bring it on!" Pyro grinned wickedly and shifted his left shoulder minutely, but that was all the warning Kitty needed. She leaped forward, grabbing his arm just as he was bringing the fire-filled hand up to attack.

"Cut it out, guys," she said quickly. Pyro's bicep was tense beneath her fingers. He looked down at her, breathing hard, a crazy light still flickering behind his honey-colored eyes. Kitty widened her eyes at him earnestly, raising her brows. She looked to Evan, but kept her hand restraining Pyro. "Spyke, stop it. You heard me. He's only going to be here for a while, and he warned me when he could have just run. I owe him a lot." The black boy spared her a glance before looking back at John. His nostrils flared angrily, but with a single, harsh jerk of his arms, the spikes slid back in.

"Watch your back," he growled. Pyro's lips tilted in what should have been a smile. Instead, it looked more like a snarl. The fireball in his palm shifted and changed until it shaped a clenched fist, the extended middle finger pointing at the ceiling. Evan's lip curled, and Pyro closed his own fist around the flame one, extinguishing it effortlessly.

"Watch yours, Spikey," he replied in a mock-friendly tone. "Wouldn't want those hedgehog pins to get... a little... hot..."

"John, shut up," Kitty whispered fiercely at him. Her fingers tightened painfully around his arm. The room was very still, tension pervading the air. John tilted his head, looking down at Kitty's upturned face, and smiled.

"No worries, Kitten," he said calmly. "We've had our fun. Right, Spyke?" He drew out the name snidely.

"Right, Fireboy." Evan put the same derogatory emphasis on the nickname. He went back to sit with his friends, moodily sipping a soda. Kitty laughed a little nervously.

"Okay. Well, that was exciting. Anyway, you guys, just deal with it." As she pulled an unprotesting Pyro from the room, Kitty couldn't help but notice that Rogue's cool, unreadable gaze had never once left the ex-Brotherhood member.

When they were in the hall, Kitty turned to John and sighed.

"Good job. Five minutes and you've already got, like, a mortal enemy." He shrugged, looked pleased.

"This place needs some excitement," Pyro said, stretching his arms out. "I wasn't looking forward to being stuck here, but maybe it'll be fun after all. Besides, you're the one who said, and I quote, 'plenty of people to scare the wits out of'. So technically, it's all your fault." He watched, surprised, as she visibly calmed herself down. Suddenly, the bright smile was back and she was latched on to his arm again.

"So, where next? How about the grounds? I bet a bunch of people are out there. Bobby, probably. He and Eric- that's one of the new boys- were gonna play a game of ice hockey. With powers."

"What, on the fountain? Popsicle going to freeze it?" Again, he pulled his arm away from her, sidling closer to the wall. She didn't seem to notice. Pyro had enjoyed getting her off-balance in the game room, but now she was back to whatever her big, secret plot was. And he didn't like it.

"Yeah. And Eric's power is growing these really cool blades, like, all over his body. Ice-skating blades, you know? So he can, like, fall anywhere and still skate."

"Wonderful," Pyro muttered. "Now ask me if I care."

"Don't be a jerk," Kitty said lightly. They passed an empty classroom and John snagged her elbow, swinging her with him as he ducked through the door. He steadied her and then stepped hurriedly away.

"What's going on, Kitten?"

8888888888

"What's going on, Kitten?" Kitty found herself caught in his intent stare, and fought back a blush. He knew. Shit. Well, she hadn't really expected her 'be nice to him no matter what and eventually he'll get over his mental/emotional constipation' idea to pan out for a long time, but she'd hoped to last longer than a single morning.

"What are you talking about," she tried. He shook his head, eyes narrowed, and in that moment he looked exactly like he had the first time she'd stolen his lighter over a year ago.

"Why are you acting so weird?"

"How do you know this isn't how I usually act? It's not like you've stuck around to figure that out," she said defensively. He snorted.

"Because even before I left, when you didn't know me, you always treated me like I was Dracula or something, and then after you fell on me, you acted like I was a mosquito that occasionally amused you. Not this... bubbly, Powderpuff thing." She opened her mouth for a retort, and then had to pause.

"You know who the Powderpuff Girls are?"

"I know a lot more than that, including the fact that you. Are. Acting. Freakishly. Unlike. You. So I repeat: what's going on?" She took a deep breath.

"WellIthoughtthatifIjustactedlikeeverythingwasokayandwewerefriendsthenyouwouldjustgetoverthisstupidbadguything." He blinked at her.

"Pause. Rewind. Play, slomo."

"You're an idiot, John Allerdyce!"

"Okay. The condensed version, huh?" He didn't seem to be getting it. Kitty stomped her foot.

"You. Are. An. Idiot. John. Allerdyce!"

"How many times are you gonna say that? 'Cause if it's any more than two, I have better things to do. People to scare, hair to singe."

"What is wrong with you!" She wasn't sure why she was blowing up at him. A spoke in her menstrual cycle? Hormones? Insanity? Whatever it was, Kitty's patience had just run out. She'd tried thanking him and he'd scared her half to death. She'd tried being nice, and he took out his aggression on Evan. She'd tried being stern, and he'd laughed in her face. She'd tried explaining, and he'd made light of it.

"Same thing that's wrong with you: you." She gasped.

"Why do you have to be so mean?!" He waved a hand around.

"How did you get from Powderpuff to Little Sister Version Two?!"

"Are you saying I sound like a whiney little girl?"

"I'm saying that if you have something actually important to say to me, you better say it, because I don't need this from you!"

"You wouldn't have this from me if you weren't such a- such a jackass!" He whipped his hand to his forehead in a mock-faint, affecting a southern accent.

"My, oh, my, Scarlett, what a temper you have!"

"You know, maybe I wish Bobby had just left you outside that gate!"

"And maybe I do too! Then, I wouldn't have to have you yell at me along with EVERYTHING else that's fucked up in my life!"

"Why is it so different? Doesn't everyone yell at you? Tell me, **Johnny**," she spat, hands on hips, "do you have any friends? At all? How about family? Do your parents even bother to keep in touch with-"

"You shut the hell up about my family," he hissed, his eyes utterly closed to her. Kitty did a doubletake, startled by the soft venom of his tone. She felt heat and looked down and there was fire, fire in his hands, fire snaking up his arms until he forced it back and made it vanish like the camaraderie they'd shared just fifteen short minutes ago.

"I-"

"See you, Kitty," he said, and walked past her and out of the room.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the emptiness, her eyes wide and filled with failure. He'd called her Kitty.

Somehow, that hurt most of all.


	8. Unleashing Zippo

"John?" She balanced the heavy paper bag carefully between her elbows, steadying it with her left palm as she quickly freed her right fist to knock on the door to the room he'd been given. It was late, almost eleven, but she knew he'd be up. There was no answer. She knocked again, a little harder, and the paper bag slipped. "Oh, no!" It was sliding forward out of her grasp, and Kitty scrambled to catch it. She tripped over the edge of the carpet that went up to the wall, falling through John's door and landing flat on her face, the paper bag half-under her and half-pillowing her forehead. Luckily the clerk had rolled the top before giving it to her, so its contents didn't all spill out.

"Ow," Kitty muttered, rubbing her forehead as she slowly got to her knees. She looked up. Pyro was half-sitting up on his bed, looking caught between pissed off and curious. More pissed off, though.

"What are you doing here?" She chewed her lip, carefully climbing to her feet.

"I knocked, but you didn't answer. Then I tripped." He waited. She broke. "I'm sorry. I just... I'm sorry I said that. About your family. I had no right. Here?" She held out the paper bag hopefully, keeping her eyes on his face. He still looked hard, but not quite as hard as before. He didn't reach out for the bag. Kitty tossed it gently to the bed. Still watching her, Pyro unrolled the top and poured out what was inside. Seven candles of different shapes, colors and sizes, spilled out across his lap.

"Why are you giving me these?" She folded her hands behind her back self-consciously, twisting her fingers around.

"I remembered you having candles on your bedside table. You don't have any here, and I thought that wasn't... wasn't fair," she finished simply. It didn't quite make sense, but it was what her thought process had been. Well, that and finding some way to make him forgive her. She wasn't sure what was going on between them, and she was even less sure of what she herself wanted from him, but she knew that one thing she DIDN'T want was him furious with her. Kitty was still kicking herself over that stupid, nasty comment. Why had she said that, anyway?

"When did you see my candles? It was dark that night."

"You lit one. I thought you were gonna set my hair on fire, but you lit a candle." He frowned, but it wasn't an angry frown. More confused, and maybe a little wondering.

"You remember that?" She couldn't speak. She nodded instead. He picked up one of the candles, a squat black one with jagged slashes of red running through it, and rolled it in his hands. "Where did you get these?"

"A natural goods shop I know. They're handmade."

"Yeah." He didn't ask how much they cost. He didn't want to know.

"Pyro, I'm sorry," she said again. "But you just made me so mad. I just... I just don't get why you have to say things like you say. What does it get you to make people... why?" He gathered up the candles and put them back in the bag, saving the black-and-red one. This, he set on the bedside table.

"Why not?" Kitty waffled, and then cautiously went to sit down on the foot of his bed. He pulled his feet up, bending one leg and resting his elbow on that knee, but didn't push her off.

"Don't you want people to like you?" Pyro gave a short laugh. She sounded so young, saying that. Like she couldn't conceive of the answer ever being 'no'. Hell, she probably couldn't.

"Not really. Not these people."

"Why not?" Kitty drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on her forearms. Pyro looked at her and sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Because they're losers. I don't need them to like me."

"We're not all losers," she protested earnestly. "We're pretty good people. What's so wrong with us?" She was careful not to sound hurt, though she kind of was. She didn't admit to herself that when she said 'us', she meant 'me'. Still, Kitty recognized that he hadn't actually meant that comment to be vicious.

"Why do you care? Why do you even care if I like you or not?" Neither of them noticed that the conversation had taken a sudden turn towards the personal.

"I just want to understand why you don't want friends."

"I don't not want friends."

"Then why don't you try to make them? Why do you try your best NOT to make them?"

"Because, like I said, I don't need to be friends with people like the people here."

"So, like I said, what's wrong with the people here?"

"Everything. Look, apology accepted, okay? Whatever. Can you leave me alone now?"

"Okay," she said softly, not wanting to push her luck. "Good night, Pyro." He didn't respond, but waved a hand at her as she left.

Once he was alone, Pyro let his head fall back against the headboard. Stupid Kitty and her stupid questions. Stupid him for feeling the way he did.

But he didn't need this right now. He'd deal with it later. He'd deal with all of it later.

Somewhere in New York

"I don't care about the recent happenings, Gerald, you know they mean nothing to me- I said, it doesn't matter to me how much security there is, or how much political, bureaucratic bullshit you have to wade through, just get me into that school!" Emma Frost closed her eyes, letting out a soothing breath as she snapped her cell phone closed. Honestly. It was so hard to get good help these days. How difficult was it for people to understand that it made no difference what the situation was: if Emma Frost wanted something, she had damn well better get it!

Running a hand through her flashy platinum bob, Emma let herself sink deeper into the bubbles of her bath. She set the phone on the marble counter to her left and took a sip of wine from the glass suspended on a small tray over the water.

She allowed the irritation to float away, and smiled to herself. She'd just about given up on the Shadowcat after the whole affair with Charles, but now that he was… indisposed… she was free to go after this miraculous young lady.

"Ah…" Emma basked in her plans for little Miss Kitty Pryde. She could walk through walls. Through anything. She was invulnerable, unstoppable. Once she had full control of her powers, she would be able to walk into any safe without fear or caution. She could wave a hand through a tank and it would be useless; reach out and grab a heart and a person would die, just like that. Nothing would be able to stop Shadowcat, and therefore, nothing would be able to stop Emma. With the proper training, the young woman would see that Emma's way was better than what the weak fools at Xavier's were teaching her. Well… either the proper training, or a well-executed brainwashing. Much faster that way, after all.

Speaking of brains…

Emma's smile turned to a slight frown as she pouted, remembering the annoying little creature she'd found searching for her perfect weapon. Only he'd turned out to be not such a little creature: he'd fought her, which had come as a complete surprise. And the fire! She had to confess, she hadn't expected the fire. Oh, she'd recognized his face from the news that she occasionally deigned to watch, but she hadn't really paid attention to that whole war thing. She'd been far too busy in South Africa , working with a select group of mediums to try and bring spirits across in an attempt to replace the Pryde girl's gifts. It hadn't worked, but now there was no need. Anyway, back to the boy. Emma frowned a little more. She really should have seen it coming. She hated being surprised. And it had hurt! The nerve of him, some mere teenager, daring to attack her!

Mmmm. But then again, it had almost been worth it. He hadn't helped her to locate her prey, but she'd found another way to Kitty. His mind, though, had been a tasty treat for certain. He'd been delightfully twisted, once she tore through the thin outer layers of his psyche. She'd seen a lot of contempt and rage in him, as well as confused affection and hatred. When she'd gone below that, Emma had found more memories, memories of fire and pain and a series of faces that kept appearing. They were hidden beneath layers and layers of attitude and denial, but they were there and she had delighted in bringing them up. Four faces: a blond woman with eyes the color of warm honey, a dark-haired man with a crinkly smile, a young girl of about eleven, and a youth of around sixteen. Emma sighed with satisfaction as she recalled the sweet torment these faces caused in this impudent young man, closing her eyes and seeing the memories again; screaming, pleading faces surrounded by flames.

So there was guilt, too, beneath the anger and pain and twisted love.

Such a wonderful confusion.

It had, as she'd thought before, almost been worth it. But only almost. She glared at her reflection in the mirror on the ceiling, eying the shortened hair. She'd lost one of her favorite white tops, as well. He'd have to pay for that, would John Allerdyce. Pyro. She'd already loosened up his memories and jumbled up his already-confused emotions, just for fun. That would probably be causing nightmares and moodiness, though she suspected that the latter wouldn't exactly be a change. The nightmares, she decided, would only be the beginning. Ah! Maybe he would be Shadowcat's first test subject! How many organs could a person lose before they died?

Now, there was a puzzle.

Kitty knocked lightly on the door, tugging at the hem of her uniform. She'd planned on walking a little more carefully around John after repairing their- whatever it was- last night, and that certainly didn't include waking him up at seven in the morning, but Logan had called a surprise DR session. When she'd arrived, sleepy and hungry, he'd told her (to everyone's surprise and horror) to go get 'Zippo' within ten minutes or the training session would be twice as long.

She'd left just as Bobby was cautiously tapping the big man's shoulder, the blatant worry in his eyes almost funny.

In truth, she was not exactly comfortable with giving Pyro a chance to burn the hell out of all of them either, but maybe he'd use the session to get out the anger he obviously held inside. Anyway, she didn't really have a choice. Whatever Logan said went, now that Scott was gone.

"Uh, good morning," Kitty said as the door opened to reveal a yawning, sleep-mussed John Allerdyce. He was wearing black drawstring pants and a dark red wifebeater, one hand pressed against the door, the other raking through his hair. This caused it to stick straight up on one side of his head, a cowlick forming on the other side. Kitty had to force herself not to grin at the utter adorkableness of early-morning John.

"What is it?" He sounded sleepy, but not angry. Kitty noted that, despite the tiredness of his appearance, his eyes were alert as he took in her full uniform. "What's with the leather? Not that I'm complaining..."

"We've got a training session. In the Danger Room."

"Sucks for you."

"Hate to break it to you, but it sucks for you, too. Logan just sent me to get you." He frowned.

"What, you mean he wants me to join in? Fight you people?"

"Not fight us. Fight WITH us." Pyro rolled his eyes.

"You may not have noticed, Kitten, but I'm not exactly an X-Man." She folded her arms. He was calling her Kitten again, so he must really have forgiven her. Good. She could give it to him straight.

"Well, either you come of your own free will or I phase you down there, because if we don't show up in about five minutes, the session is doubled. And Logan himself will probably come up here and drag you down." He scoffed. She didn't blink.

"I'm not wearing one of those uniforms."

"You're lucky we don't have one your size. You get to wear comfy clothes." They were in the elevator, as Pyro had downright refused Kitty's offer of a faster way down.

"Even if you did have one my size, hell would freeze over before I'd let it anywhere near me."

"I don't know. Maybe you'd look good in leather. You could probably get it detailed in red." She chuckled as he frowned. It appeared as if he had put the entire fight behind him. Kitty wasn't sure how she felt about that. She was glad he wasn't furious with her anymore, but the conversation they'd had the night before had opened a few doors in her quest to unwind the tangled web that made up his mind, and Kitty wasn't happy with how he just closed off his emotions the way he did. She sighed a little. She'd have to work on that.

They arrived at the Danger Room with about ten seconds to spare. Kitty burst through the door, crying,

"We're here! I got him!" (Ordinarily, she wouldn't have been so rushed, but with Logan, you could never take chances- if he said he would double the session if you didn't cook his eggs exactly right, you could pretty much bet on a doubled session. He didn't kid around.) Pyro, on the other hand, strolled in after her at a leisurely pace after running his hands through his hair to make it all stick up evenly, at least.

"Half-pint. Zippo. Get your asses over here." The two teenagers walked over to the group, both ignoring the way the other students spread to either side of Pyro, keeping their distance. Logan ignored it too. "So. Here's the deal. It's a rescue mission. Kitty, you're the captive."

"Huh? Hey! If that's because of-"

"Listen up for your teams," Logan said loudly, giving her a significant look. She shut up. Emma Frost was need-to-know, right. "For the scene, we'll say Kitty's been given a suppressor. Or the cure. Whatever. She can't use her powers. Team A is rescuing, Team B is keeping Team A away from Half-pint. Team A: Jubilee, Spyke, Razorblade, and Zippo. Team B: Iceman, Warp, Cannon-boy, and Angel."

Bobby, Kevin, Sam and Warren gathered in a knot on one side of the room, talking quietly and looking at John. Kitty gave him a little shove and he shot her a dirty look before stalking over to stand within five feet of Jubilee, Evan and Eric. The Asian smiled uncertainly at him. Evan glared. Eric, who Pyro had never met, walked up and stuck out a hand.

"Hey. I'm Razorblade." John looked him up and down. He looked Hispanic, with short dark hair and a full mouth. He looked like a jock, but friendly enough.

"Pyro," John said smoothly, giving the hand a single shake. He may not want friends, but maybe one mortal enemy was enough for now.

"Aw, man," Evan moaned. "Can't he be on the other team? Or, better yet, can't he NOT do this? Aren't you scared he's gonna flip out and light us all up?" Wolverine just rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder,

"Work together, people, or you'll go down like flies!" Despite the animosity, everyone in the room suppressed a gulp. Pyro turned to Spyke and grinned.

"Ready for this, Porcupine?"

"In the Danger Room, we'll work together," the other boy gritted. "But outside it…" John's grin turned a little feral. Jubilee stepped in between them, holding up her hands.

"Okay. I don't know about you two, but I don't want to find out what Logan's version of 'drop like flies' is. So let's just do this!" Eric cheered. Evan nodded grimly. Pyro kept smiling, and took out his lighter.


	9. Danger Room

"So, how exactly does this work," Pyro asked carelessly as the metal walls of the Danger Room melted away, leaving a mazelike warren of hallways. He heard Kitty yell something, sounding annoyed, and then nothing but silence. Jubilee looked around cautiously.

"Right, you left before we really got into the DR sessions. Um, okay. Basically, all you have to do for this simulation is make your way through the maze, looking for Kitty. If you run into members of the other team, you chop them across the neck. Not hard! Just lightly, but what would have been a killing blow. That means they're out. If you get chopped, you're out. If we take out all the others, we just have to grab Kitty. If we don't, we have to get her safely back to our starting point."

"Uh-huh. And do we stick together?" Evan looked like he was about to respond when Jubilee glared at him.

"Yeah," he said grudgingly, and it was obvious he had been going to say 'no'. "We're a team." The words sounded rote. Eric clapped his hands together, and blades popped out.

"Okay. So how are we gonna do this?"

"Well," Jubilee said slowly, "since it's a maze, maybe we should stay together until we find a split, and then split up. There's four of us, so we can go in twos."

"I'm with Porcupine," John said cheekily. Spyke rolled his eyes.

"I told you this was the wrong way."

"Just because we haven't run into anyone on the other team doesn't mean it was the wrong- hang on," Pyro broke off, holding up a hand. He flicked his lighter, balancing a flame in his palm. Evan shook himself, and spikes burst out, ready to throw. They listened, deadly still. The attack came without further warning.

"Shit!" It was some kind of metal octopus-type-thing that dropped from the ceiling, landing a foot away from Evan. He flung thick bone spikes at it, but it grabbed them with serpentine movements of its legs and then dropped them to the ground. Pyro grabbed two of the spikes lying on the floor and ran around the thing, lighting them on fire as he called,

"Hey! Ugly! You wanna party?" With that, he tossed the spikes at the octopus. As he'd expected, the thing grabbed for them with two legs and went after Evan with the others. Pyro gritted his teeth and fed his power into the fire, making it get hotter... and hotter... Suddenly, the spikes exploded, taking the two legs with them. The metal octopus keened angrily and scuttled towards Pyro, abandoning Evan. The black teenager jumped on top of it from behind and slammed a spike into the center of its back just as Pyro flung out his hands, scorching the wiring that was hanging out of the two broken legs. There was a burst of sparks and the thing shorted out, sending a nasty electric current through Spyke, who was still on top of it. He leaped away, cursing, as the octopus jerkily collapsed to the floor. The two mutants stared at it.

"Well, that was easy," Pyro said jauntily. Spyke looked annoyed.

"You weren't the one who got electrocuted."

"You shouldn't have jumped on it like that. I mean, come on! Even if I hadn't burnt out the wires, you would have gotten shocked for sticking your little spike in the control box," John replied with a snort.

"You should have told me what you were going to do."

"Fine. Next time, I'll fax you some blueprints of my plan. Now shut up, someone's talking." They listened.

"I'll get you for this, Bobby Drake!"

"Well, you took down Angel!" It was Jubilee and Iceman, sounding not-too-far away.

"Jubes is out," Evan whispered.

"And Wings." They edged around a corner and leaped back as Sam torpedoed towards them. The human cannonball was zooming straight for Pyro, who raised a wall of flame but knew the other boy would fly straight through it, when Razorblade suddenly dropped from where he'd been clinging to the top of the maze wall after having used his blades to climb up and over. The Hispanic teen took the full brunt of Sam's powers, sending them both slamming into the wall just as Pyro jumped aside. When the dust cleared, Sam and Eric were both groaning on the floor. Out.

John looked at Evan. They shrugged and headed off to find Iceman.

"Hey! Can anyone hear me? I'm in here!" It was Kitty. Spyke and Pyro started running, heading for the sound of her voice. Spyke was in the lead when he suddenly went flying, having slipped on the now-icy floor. Pyro managed to skid to a stop just before the ice started. Spyke got to his feet just in time to send spikes shooting out to blast away Bobby's icebomb. Pyro quickly melted the ice on the floor as Bobby stepped forward.

"Hey, guys," he said, and shot a stream of ice at Spyke. Pyro raised his hands, and then stepped back as Spyke shot him a look. Evan deflected the ice with his spikes, moving steadily towards Bobby.

"You're not gonna win this one, Ice," he said. "Nothing can stop the Spykeman!"

And that was when Bobby ducked and lunged, catching Spyke in the shins and bringing him to the ground. Immediately, Evan was coated in ice up to his throat, which Bobby casually chopped just as Pyro, sick of standing around, booted him in the stomach. Spyke said something, sounding strangled, and John flicked a hand at him without looking away from Bobby, who was getting to his feet. The ice melted, leaving Spyke to huddle against the wall malevolently.

Pyro and Bobby stared at each other, both remembering another time, another fight. A much more serious fight. Then, Pyro pursed his lips and blew Bobby a mock-kiss, completely ruining the solemnity of the moment.

Bobby growled. He shot a blast of frozen needles from his palms, teeth gritted with the strain. Pyro braced himself, putting one foot behind the other and angling his torso as he held up both hands. Teeth bared, John sent a stream of flames to meet the ice halfway.

"Come on, Popsicle, this tune's getting old! Sing me a new one, how 'bout?"

"I don't see you trying anything else! Keep it up, Firebug- remember who won last time," Bobby taunted. Pyro shrugged.

"Okay." With that, he grunted with effort and raised his hands, the fire streaking back to roil around his fists and arms, and dropped below the suddenly un-deflected torrent of ice. Bobby couldn't see him beneath the haze of his own freeze, and hurriedly stopped the stream just as John came out of a roll and headbutted him in the stomach. Bobby oofed and reeled backwards, bombarding Pyro with icicles before the other teen could chop him. Pyro pressed his sudden advantage, advancing mercilessly. Bobby swallowed. John was not attacking like he had at Alcatraz. That had been purely a pissing contest: fire vs. ice in the most basic possible way. Now, Pyro was fighting smart, using Bobby's own ice as a shield, attacking with his body as well as his fire, and controlling his powers in a way he hadn't even attempted during the one-on-one all those months ago. Bobby remembered how John had set Magneto's flying cars on fire, aiming perfectly over at least one hundred feet of empty air. Now, the fire-manipulator was using the same careful control as he shot streaks of flame that twisted around Bobby's ice to sting his arms, legs and chest before darting away teasingly. It was almost like Pyro was playing with him.

Eyes narrowing, he slid into his true Iceman form. Bobby lunged for Pyro, reaching for the other teen's hands like he had at Alcatraz. John danced out of the way, raising his arms above his head and making a circle of fire that surrounded Bobby.

"Ah, ah, ah, Bobby," he called, grinning maddeningly. "I learn from my mistakes!" With that, Pyro gave a grunt of effort and stepped closer to the ring of fire, making it close in around Iceman until he cringed with the heat. Pyro was breathing hard, heat and exertion causing beads of sweat to roll down his forehead. He took one last step, actually in the flames now, and instantly reached out to chop the kneeling Bobby across the neck. Bobby cursed and sat all the way down, out. Pyro blinked, and the roaring flames melted away to nothing but a flicker in his palm. His clothes were a little scorched, but nothing too bad. He smiled at the defeated Iceman. "Sorry, but I can't stick around. Gotta see about a girl."

As Pyro strolled off down the hall, he could hear Bobby's heavy, exhausted breathing. Spyke spoke up from his place by the wall.

"Damn, son," he said to Bobby. "I don't like the dude, but I gotta admit, he's got style."

Pyro rounded a corner.

"Hello? Are you guys done duking it out? Come on, get on with it!" Kitty sounded fed up. He heard banging coming from a room to his right. John walked up to it and knocked on the door.

"Hello? You in there?" There was a pause.

"Pyro?"

"The one and only." She heaved a sigh of relief.

"Finally. You need to get me out fast before someone catches you!" He clucked his tongue, leaning a shoulder against the door.

"Nah, everyone else got chopped. Which, by the way, is the lamest thing I've ever heard. They call this the Danger Room, right? So where the hell's the danger? I mean, gimme a break. This was easy."

"Uh, yeah," she said in a 'duh' tone of voice. "Logan's testing you. Figuring out if you can hold up to the harder simulations." He laughed.

"Ooh, sounds scary. What, are there monsters? Holograms of Bobby in his boxers? 'Cause, come to think of it, that would probably set me back a bit-"

"John! It was a team exercise, and we had enough people so we could have a defense and an offense. Next time, we'll probably be split up into different sessions, and you'll be fighting on a harder level! Now shut up and let me out of here!"

"Just phase out. I won, already."

"Your TEAM won, and I can't. Game's not over until you grab me." Pyro grinned.

"Oh, yeah. And by the way, what next time? You actually think I'm gonna join your little 'DR sessions'?" She pounded a fist against the door.

"You will if you know what's good for you. While you're here, you do what Storm and Logan tell you. That's the rule. Can you just let me out?" Pyro leaned his head close to the door, placing a hand flat against it and scuffing a foot.

"Really, Kitten. Since when do I follow rules?" He was referring to one of the first things he'd ever said to her, and they both knew it. Kitty hissed, living up to her name. John thought fleetingly that it was a good thing there was a door and restrictions on her powers between them, as he didn't really want to find out if she had claws, too.

"Stop being difficult. Logan! Wolverine! I know you can hear me! Make him stop!"

"Play nice, kiddies," came the older man's gruff voice over the speaker. He sounded choked. Pyro smirked. Maybe Logan wasn't so bad after all: he obviously saw the humor in this situation. Which was more than could be said for Kitty.

"Please let me out," she said, not sounding in the least amused.

"Say the magic word."

"I just did."

"No, I mean the other one."

"Open sesame?"

"Do I look like Aladdin to you?"

"Abracadabra? Shazaam?"

"Hmm. How about, 'Pyro is the coolest person in the world, and everyone should bow to him.'"

"That's more than one word."

"So was 'open sesame'."

"But that wasn't right."

"What?"

"Huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a little confused, actually." There was a contemplative pause. Suddenly, Kitty huffed. "Hey! That so wasn't the point! I don't need to say a magic word for you to let me out!" Pyro snickered.

"Actually, you do."

"Johnny, you let me out this instant or I will-"

"You'll what?" She lowered her voice dangerously.

"Or I will phase into your room one of these nights, take your precious Zippo, and stick it in a rock."

"Ha."

"You think I'm kidding?"

"You know, I think I liked it better when you were afraid of me."

"Why should I be afraid of you when you can't so much as touch me?" She was right across the door from him. He lifted his hands and pressed them against the door above his head, leaning in.

"I didn't notice you going all ghosty when I had you pinned the other day," Pyro said softly, careful not to let Logan or the others overhear him. There was a sharp intake of breath from inside the room. "Are you really all that invulnerable?" Now, she scoffed.

"You just startled me, is all."

"The Kitty I remember fell through the floor when she was startled. She didn't NOT phase."

"Well, I've changed," she said defensively.

"Yeah," he breathed lowly. "But I can still get to you, huh?"

"'Get to me'? The only thing you get to is my repressed homicidal maniac gene."

"Hmm. Well, we'll see. At least, if I do bring out the murderer in you, I won't have to worry about the Snow Bitch sucking my brain dry," he said. "I'd suggest you get used to repressing, though, because the weather witch and Badger probably wouldn't like you killing me. Not that they would mind me being dead, but I've gathered that killing is frowned upon in this place. And seeing as I'm gonna be hanging around you for a while, you should keep your hands as non-red as possible."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" He shrugged, though she couldn't see him. Might as well tell her, so she didn't think he was stalking her or something.

"I've been ordered to stick close to you, Kitten."

"Oh, that's not fair."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I said." She sighed morosely, and then seemed to realize something.

"Hey! That's not nice!"

"What? You said it too!"

"John, you are a terrorist. I have a legitimate reason not to want to be your Siamese twin."

"And you are a goody-two-shoes."

"Asshole."

"Wow. That's a long way from 'jerk'." Once they'd come out of the rather threatening (for Kitty, at least- for Pyro, it was really quite interesting) whispered conversation about her phasing- or lack thereof- they'd returned to speaking regularly. Pyro was enjoying himself, but knew that pretty soon, Logan would get sick of listening to them bicker. He checked his lighter, made sure he had enough fuel to defend himself, and opened the door.

He had severely underestimated Kitty's speed. Milliseconds after there was even a crack of opening, he was flat on his back with 124 pounds of girl sitting on him, small-but-powerful fists pummeling his chest and shoulders. John yelped and tried to catch her hands, but she was too fast for him. He managed to get his feet flat on the floor and shove down, lifting his lower body and torso as he supported the brunt of his- and her- weight on his elbows. This loosened her grip and made her slide further down his chest, giving him a chance to grab her wrists as she tried not to fall over.

"Stop it," he bit out as she struggled with him, her legs straddling his chest.

"Oh! Who's vulnerable now?!" She phased through his grip and switched it rapidly, slamming his hands down to the ground on either side of his head. "Who's pinned now? Huh? Huh?"

"Jesus, Kitty, I never figured you for a dommie!" The suggestive comment had the desired effect: she faltered, her brow furrowing as she tried to figure out if she had to hit him for that. Pyro took advantage of her momentary uncertainty, twisting out of her hold and rolling them so that she was trapped beneath him. She flailed briefly, but he quickly caught her wrists and held them above her head.

"Hey!"

"So," he said intimately, "what was that about being pinned?"

"Hey! Get off her!" Neither of them had noticed the simulated maze fading away to leave plain steel walls, just as neither of them had noticed the group of X-Men-in-training, along with Bobby and Wolverine, jogging towards them. Now, Bobby had almost reached the far side of the room, where they lay, and was raising his hands threateningly. "I said get off her, Pyro!" Immediately, John released Kitty's wrists and rolled to one side, rising smoothly to his feet and taking out his lighter from his sweatpants pocket. He flicked the lid casually, raising a brow.

"Hey, relax, man, she attacked me first. I was just defending myself. Didn't even take out Old Faithful, here." Kitty stood gracefully, brushing herself off. She was blushing like mad, but spoke up gamely.

"That's right, I did kind of start punching him before he even made a move. And he didn't try for his lighter."

"Because you had him too busy trying to keep you from braining him," Wolverine said dryly. Bobby was frowning. Spyke looked murderous. Logan turned to Pyro. "You're lucky I saw the whole thing. If I hadn't known she jumped you first…" He trailed off ominously, and John folded his arms defiantly. He opened his mouth, but Wolverine's eyes narrowed and the teenager shut up, though he didn't stop glaring belligerently at the older man. Bobby moved to take Kitty's arm, but she stepped out of reach. John looked at her, raising a brow, and she rolled her eyes before looking determinedly away from the fire-manipulator.

"Come on, gang," she said loudly. "I'm fine, he's fine, we're all fine. Let's go have breakfast."

"Good plan," Wolverine said. "And good work, everybody. Bobby, nice trick with the trap you set for Fireworks. Razorblade, good job defending your teammates. Zippo. C'mere." John walked over boldly, the defiant look still on his face. Logan didn't waste any time. The older man leaned in close, invading Pyro's space, and spoke in a low, warning tone. "You're new, and you're nicely fucked up, but that only buys you so much leeway. I got two words for you, bub, and you better learn them fast: team. Work." With that, he straightened, and walked casually out of the Danger Room.


	10. Doubting Me

When Rogue walked into the library, she'd been certain it would be empty. It was three in the afternoon, and most everybody was either outside or just plain out. After the morning's training session (which, of course, she'd missed), they'd been a mix of exhausted and talkative. She'd gathered that something had happened between Kitty and Pyro, but no one was quite sure exactly what. And then they'd all left. Bobby had offered to take her into the city with him, but she'd refused. Something was happening to her, and Rogue wasn't sure she wanted to be close to Bobby at the moment.

Something.

What bullshit. She knew exactly what was happening to her.

It was coming back.

She could feel it, a creeping tingle in her bones. In her blood. Memories, just dreams now, but they were getting stronger every minute. Hints of a seductive pull when she touched people lately. Something was going terribly wrong with the supposed 'cure'. What she'd sacrificed, what she'd debated and cried and worried about, was coming back.

Her power. Her curse. The thing that set her apart as a freak among freaks. Untouchable Marie, who wore her misery like a shield. Rogue shook her head sharply. She wasn't that girl anymore. Even if her powers did fully return, she would never be that girl again. Bobby loved her, and he'd loved her before she got the cure. She didn't need to be alone.

Only sometimes, she preferred it. That was why she wanted to be the only one in the library now, why she'd refused Bobby's offer. She didn't know what to do, or who to tell. No. She wouldn't tell. Not until she was... until she was sure.

But anyway, she wasn't the only one there at all. Pyro lay stretched out on the couch, one white-socked foot up on the back, the other leg bent at the knee. He was reading. As she paused, wondering if she should go in, he stretched his arms up. She caught the title of the book in his hand: 'Beyond Good and Evil'. Rogue's brow raised. She would never have expected John Allerdyce to pick Nietzsche as afternoon reading material.

"Having fun with old Friedrich?" He jolted at the sound of her voice, and sat up, his left leg falling off the top of the couch.

"Rogue," Pyro said, regaining his cool. He glanced down at the book cover. "Got a problem with Nietzsche?" She walked further into the room, not taking her eyes from his face.

"Just didn't think he was exactly your speed, Pyro."

"Have you ever read him?" He didn't wait for her answer. "He saw beyond the bullshit we surround ourselves with. He told it like it was, like it is. Like this, here." He held up the book. "'To concede the fictional nature of the conditions of life means, of course, taking a dangerous stand against the customary feelings about value.' He's exactly right, if only people would pay attention!" Rogue blinked.

"What?" John sighed.

"He's saying that we rely on false judgments, like the one that mutants are inherently evil, and that the only way we can truly live is to throw away those false beliefs and rewrite our code of values with truth instead of lies and stupid ignorance."

"Isn't that the opposite of what Magneto said? Didn't he think that all humans were evil?"

"No, actually. He just thinks they're weak and ineffectual."

"But- wait a minute. I didn't come here to argue about Nietzsche with you." He grinned.

"Why did you come here, Marie?" Drawing out the name. She lifted her chin.

"I've got some things to say to you, John," Rogue said evenly. Why not? She'd wanted to talk to him for a while. Now was as good a time as any. He lifted his brows and shrugged.

"So talk." She came around the couch and sat down in an armchair across from him.

"I'm very close to hating you, Pyro," she said bluntly. Something in her tone kept him silent, and she continued. "But I don't. I can't. We were friends, once." He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. "Not like you were with Bobby. It was always kind of a like/hate thing with you two. But we always liked each other, from the beginning. And once you left... Well, I've been left behind before. Plenty of times. But I didn't think you'd do that to me. I know we weren't best buds, or whatever, but you were one of the only real friends I had and you knew it, no matter how much of a jerk you acted like sometimes. So when you went off with Buckethead, I wanted to kill you for breaking my trust. And now that you're back, I want to kill you for coming back. We were starting over. All of us. Me without my powers, Bobby over that thing with Kitty, Logan getting over Jean. But now you're here, and it's all come back with you."

"Look, Rogue, it's not my fault you've... gotten over whatever it was you had to get over, and now seeing me is ruining it for you. I can't help that."

"Why did you have to come back here, John? I don't want you dead after all, and hell, I even want you to be happy, but why'd you have to come back here?" He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Pyro didn't know what to say. He wanted to throw out a quick, light remark or a biting, rude comment. He could do neither. The way she was looking at him brought back memories of the two of them before the war, when he'd been able to... talk to her. Just talk. And she'd listened. Rogue always had been a good listener. Not that he'd bared his soul or anything dumb like that, but they'd always been able to talk about the day without getting awkward. Now, her voice was so serious, so filled with truth and emotion, that he couldn't make himself take her lightly. Finally, he sighed.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"What?" She looked a bit thrown.

"When... right, you saw me get brought in. When Frost got me, I was... Fuck. I was alone, okay? Not like that's anything new. Anyway, I didn't know what to do. I knew I had to warn Kitty, and I knew she'd be here. Honestly, I didn't even think about what the rest of the X-Men would say."

"Why did you want to warn Kitty? I thought you turned your back on all of us."

"I did," he said harshly. "I left all of this behind me and I never looked back."

"Never?" She paused. "John, did we ever mean anything to you? You were always so... God, I don't know. So aloof. You never let anyone really know you. Even Bobby or me. Did you actually walk away without a second thought that day?" He looked down at his hands. His hair, no longer sticking up like it had that morning, fell across his forehead and framed his honey-dark eyes as he studied the long, strong fingers, gaze playing across various burns and, almost faded, the age-whitened scars of a fire he'd long tried to forget.

"You meant something," he said quietly. When he looked up, his eyes were sad. "It just wasn't enough."

They were silent in the wide, empty room, and Rogue wanted to weep for something she couldn't even name. Loss of innocence? Broken lives? Sunset fading to gray. Finally, she broke the stillness, softly.

"Do you think what they say is true? That you can never go back?"

"Back to what?" He was tracing the title of his book, his face expressionless. She met his eyes. There was no forgiveness in hers, but there was acceptance. Understanding. Pleading for him to tell her it wasn't too late, that even he wasn't too far gone.

"Before. Before any of it. When everything was okay." He gave a little laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"Rogue, everything was never okay for me." He held up his right hand, and under the bright lamplight, she could see an old network of scars she'd never noticed before. "My whole life has been one big inferno." He reached out to touch the back of her hand, as if to compare their skins, and Rogue flinched away. He drew back, searching her, and then breathed out. "It's happening, isn't it. The cure. I knew it was all bullshit." She shook her head.

"No, that's- that's not true. It's fine."

"Sure it is. Face it, Rogue, the cure isn't permanent. Nothing is."

"Oh, yeah? That means Magneto's getting his powers back, too," she said challengingly. "You gonna rejoin? After all, your whole life's an inferno. What better way to feed the blaze?"

"I already said I wasn't going back to him." She got up, walking towards the door. As she went, she looked over her shoulder. Her face was solemn.

"Yeah, but you're the one who said nothing's permanent. What happens when you get sick of peace?" With that, she left the library and Pyro was left staring at the cover of a paperback book, a slight frown on his face.

"Good question," he murmured.

_'Do you think what they say is true? That you can never go back?'_

_'Before. Before any of it. When everything was okay.'_

_'Everything has never been okay for me.'_ He stroked the faded scars on his palms, closing his eyes.

_'When everything was okay.'_

_"John! John, what's happening?! Make it stop! John, make it stop!"_

"_Call the fire department! Julie, get the kids out of here! John, come on, we've gotta get out of here!"_

"_Oh God, it's everywhere! It's spreading too- John, what are you doing? Why are you doing this?!"_

"_I- I don't know! I'm not doing anyth- I can't make it stop, Mum! IT WON'T STOP!"_

Pyro cried out, opening eyes that stung with tears. He looked down at his wrist. His nails were digging into the flesh, and when he raked them out, blood welled up and dribbled down his skin. He stared at it, fascinated. He still had blood. He still breathed and ran and hated and killed.

Killed.

Furious at this sudden weakness, Pyro dashed away the blood, smearing it across his arm. He got up and strode out of the library.

On the couch, Nietzsche's calm, dark eyes stared up from the cover of the abandoned book.

8888888888

"Kitty!" She paused on her way to her room, turning around. Pyro was jogging towards her. "Kitty, wait up." He came up alongside her, running a hand through his hair. She began to say something, and then froze. There were long, red scratches on the inside of his left arm.

"What happened?!" He looked down at them.

"Nothing. Um, I wanted to talk to you." She remembered the last time they'd 'talked', and gulped.

"Uh, like, about what?"

"Just stuff. Can we talk in your room?"

"My room?" It came out a squeak.

"Or mine. Whatever. Just somewhere private."

"Okay," she said slowly. Her old defense of just being able to phase out of any bad situation did not seem so reliable at this point, but he looked so serious that she couldn't refuse.

888888888

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" They were sitting on her bed, her at the top, him at the bottom. John looked oddly uncomfortable.

"Did you hear about the whole cure thing?"

"What?" This was not what she had expected. Then again, she hadn't really expected anything.

"The cure. Turns out, it isn't a cure at all. Just... a suppressor, I guess. It wears off."

"Oh, no! Rogue!" He nodded absently, running a finger down one of the scratches on his arm. "And-" She stopped, remembering who she was talking to. He nodded again.

"And Magneto. Mystique. All of them."

"So..."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do?" He looked at her sharply.

"Not gonna run off and be his right-hand man again; I told you before."

"Then why did you want to talk to me about it?" He sighed.

"I dunno. Just... I dunno." There was a sudden burst of music from her radio, and they both jerked. Sheepishly, Kitty gestured towards the clock/radio on her bedside table.

"Ah, sorry about that. It kinda... randomly turns on. I stuck a hand in it one morning trying to turn it off, and I think it messed up the wiring." He chuckled.

"'S okay." Kitty hummed a phrase from the song playing, and then stopped, blushing.

"Sorry about that, too. It's my favorite song."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. 'Forgive me my weakness, but I don't know why... without you it's hard to survive...'" She sang softly along with the radio, her voice high, but sweet. John felt his earlier unease seep away. This moment, sitting with Kitty and watching her sing along to her favorite song, was the kind of perfect thing he'd thought he could only dream about. Kitty glanced at him, saw the look of contentment on his face, and gave him a little smile. She bit her lip, then went with her instinct and stood up. Kitty grabbed his hands and tugged him off the bed. "Dance with me?" He gave a startled laugh, trying to free his hands.

"Dance? Me?"

"Come on," she said, smiling at him, "it's my favorite. Please?" She kept her left hand in his right and moved her own right hand to his shoulder. Slowly, John slid his free hand to the small of her back. There were a good two inches between them, but as they gently swayed to the music, the inches grew smaller. Kitty's bright smile gradually melted away as they danced, and both of them felt the stronger pull in the air that seemed to make everything else stand still. It was as if they were both holding their breath, waiting for a perfect sunrise.

"Uh..." His voice was a whisper. In the Danger Room, he'd been riding a rush. Now that she was in his arms, this fragile dance scared him more than any cure-bullet. "What are we doing?"

"We're dancing," she replied, equally soft. He swallowed. Slowly, they revolved around the room as Cascada played in the background.

"'Your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky. They wipe away tears that I cry. Oh, the good and the bad times, we've been through them all. You raise me up when I fall, 'cause every time we touch, I get this feeling... every time we kiss, I swear I could fly. Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last! Need you by my side...'"

"But what are we doing, Kitten?"

"Shh." She laid her head against his shoulder and he felt a sickness in his gut, knowing this perfect moment was the only one they could ever have. Kitty closed her eyes. She knew this couldn't be real, but it was the best dream she'd ever had.

When the song ended, they stopped moving, the stillness of the room overpowering. Kitty stared up at John. His face was bent slightly towards hers, his lips parted. Her hand had moved from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, and she could feel strands of hair brushing across her fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, the honey color darkened to a thick, melting molasses that made her breath catch.

"John," she whispered. He blinked, eyes clearing. Pyro stepped back, his arms falling away from her. She reached for him, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh, I have to go."

"Wait! What happened? Did I- did I do something wrong?"

"We can't do this, Kitty." She phased through him, ignoring the way he shuddered and shifted on his feet. Kitty blocked the door, refusing to let him pass.

"Why not? What exactly can't we do?" He heaved a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair.

"This. This whole... The dancing, and the... the... It won't work."

"What about in the Danger Room? What about that?"

"That was different. That was..." She laughed shortly in disbelief.

"Lust. That was lust, right? But this isn't. This is something else." Pyro glared at her, but she didn't flinch.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Get out of my way."

"Yes, I do know what I'm talking about! You came back, John! You saved my life, and you came back here, and everyone is willing to give you another chance! Why won't you take it?"

"I can't, okay?! You and me would never work for more than... than a one-night stand."

"Oh yeah? That's why you're running away? Because we wouldn't work?"

"Look at us! We fight, and we tease, and we hurt. I'm an evil killer, and you're a perfect little X-Princess. Where do you see the part with us working out, because I must be missing it!" She took a step towards him. He backed up.

"Why did you warn me, Pyro?" She put special emphasis on the name. Her eyes flashed.

"Because I had to!"

"Why did you have to? You could have told her where I was. You could have let her take me."

" No."

"Then why?"

"It doesn't make a difference. I never should have come up here. Move."

"What if I don't want to move? What if I've been waiting for this for years? Don't you get it, John?" He tried for a smirk.

"So I do get to you." She rolled her eyes.

"Do you honestly think I'm gonna fall for that now?"

"Worth a try. Please, Kitten, just let me pass."

"Not until you tell me why you won't at least try." His eyes narrowed. That was all the warning she got before she was up against the door, her wrists pinned to the wood on either side of her head, his face right in front of hers. His eyes flickered with that same, predatory spark. Pyro felt the fear in his bones, but he pushed it away. Had to make her see. Stupid, stupid for dancing with her, for letting himself be fooled into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could be something more than what he'd become.

"It's not me that doesn't get it, Kitten," he said in a liquid tone. "You may have wanted dancing and flowers and all that shit from Johnny, but Pyro doesn't play that game. This is what you want? Let's see how you like it!" He kissed her, not releasing her wrists, his lean body pressed to hers against the door. She gasped, and he kissed her harder, deeper, his mouth spreading fire like his fingertips in battle. Kitty's eyes rolled shut as she kissed him back, unable to fight it. He tasted like ginger and chocolate, a hot, intense flavor that she had never come close to tasting before. He was fierce and not at all gentle, his mouth bruising hers, but the passion in his touch was more real to her than anything. Pyro let go of her wrists, his hands streaking up her arms and down her sides, sliding under her shirt, playing across the skin of her belly and back. His fingers were dry and warm, and yet sent violent shivers down her spine that made her body spasm into his. Too fast, too fast! She struggled, but he was too strong. He didn't come near her bra, but his hands still traveled over her skin like he owned it. He finally broke the kiss, gasping, and she panted against the door as he stared at her.

"Stop," she managed to breath, trying to push him away. He smiled at her, and it was a dark smile that made her think of blood and tangled sheets.

"I thought you wanted this, Kitten," he purred, not pulling away. "You didn't want me to leave."

"This isn't you," she gasped, hands flat on his chest. "John, this isn't you!"

"Isn't it? Maybe she was right," he told her softly, dangerously. "Maybe we can never go back."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Maybe we're trapped in what we become." Kitty shook her head.

"I don't know who you're talking about, but you're wrong. You don't have to be trapped. Not anymore!" John leaned his face close to hers and she fought against closing her eyes, but he didn't touch her. Instead, he blinked hard. His eyes lost a bit of that dark gleam. He took a ragged breath, moving his hands slowly from beneath her shirt and cupping her cheeks tenderly. Despite the gentleness of his hands on her face, his words were rough and short.

"You can't save me," Pyro said. And with that, he pushed lightly past her and left the room.

Alone, Kitty pressed a hand to her mouth. She slid down the door to land in a heap on the floor, tears stinging her eyes. And then, the tears stopped. She stared at her fingertips.

'You can't save me.'

He'd kissed her to prove something. He'd left her to prove something else.

She'd let him do both. Kitty's brow furrowed determinedly. Up until now, he'd won every battle the two of them had fought.

Up until now.

"Well, guess what, Johnny," Kitty said strongly into the empty room, her hand curling into a fist. "You're not the only one with something to prove."


	11. I Throw Down The Gauntlet To Thee

Chapter Twelve

"Are you sure this is wise? Letting him come along?" Ororo folded her arms, raising a brow at Logan and Hank.

"Come on, 'Ro," Wolverine said. "He ain't stupid. Stubborn and impulsive, but not stupid. He won't run off."

"Yes, Ororo. He's stayed with us this long. Even participated in a Danger Room activity," Hank added. Storm nodded.

"Right. How did that go, anyway?" Logan scratched the back of his head.

"Went fine. Needs a little work on the whole teamwork thing, but, ah," he coughed, "seems to me that's happened before. And look how I turned out." Storm looked unimpressed.

"Uh-huh."

"Be nice, 'Ro. Anyway, what's the point of making him stay here? He'll only get into more trouble, and we'll piss him off."

"Since when do we care if he's angry?"

"Since we gave him his lighter back."

"I thought you said he wasn't stupid."

"I make no promises. Look, just let the kid come. If it bombs, I'll kick his ass." Hank chuckled. Storm rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"All right. It's on your shoulders, Logan."

8888888

John frowned.

"You want me to what?" Storm repeated herself. "Why would I go out with you people?"

"I told you, it's a dance club. Only the older students, Logan and myself are going. We thought you might like some time outside the Institute."

"Before I'm stuck here for good, you mean."

"John, either take it or leave it." He sighed, and shrugged.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll go."

"Great. We're leaving in an hour. Be downstairs, or we leave without you." She left, closing his door behind her. John sat back down on his bed, thinking. A dance club. Kitty would be there. He made a disgusted noise, smacking himself on the forehead. Shouldn't be so involved with this girl. Sure, he'd dreamed about her from afar, but this was way more serious. Pyro closed his eyes and flopped backwards, spread-eagling his arms.

He might actually be in love with Kitty Pryde.

As in really, truly, madly in love with her.

Which was more than he'd expected.

Which would really, really suck.

And now, add that admission to the fact that he'd just pretty much ruined things between them. Great. Just... goddamn... perfecto. Only... He sat up. Dance clubs were crowded and not well lit. They were noisy and filled with life and alcohol. Strictly speaking, he wasn't of age, but he'd faked it before. In short, they were perfect for losing troubles in a blaze of nirvana.

Okay, then.

He got up, decided, and went over to the cardboard box where they'd kept all his old clothes. He hadn't bothered to unpack the box. Now, Pyro overturned it and rifled through the cloth, pulling out what he wanted to wear.

888888

Kitty was waiting with Jubilee by the door when someone said,

"Hey, who said HE could come?" She looked over at the stairs. Pyro was coming down them, his hands loosely in the pockets of his black jeans. He had on a black T-shirt and a dark red button up, unbuttoned, beneath his old leather jacket. His hair was spiked up the way it had been at Alcatraz, and he was wearing the combat boots he'd worn upon his arrival at the mansion instead of the sneakers he'd found in one of his old boxes. He looked more like Pyro now than she'd seen him in days, and Kitty lifted her chin bravely. She was Shadowcat, and she could handle herself.

He didn't look at her as they got into the van, and Kitty smiled to herself. She wrapped her bulky coat tighter around her frame, and waited.

When they arrived at the club, the students filed out in what started as a line and turned into an amorphous blob. Storm didn't even attempt to get them organized. She just yelled,

"Be back at the van at midnight!" Kitty saw John entering just ahead of her, and pushed through the mass of people until she was in front of him. Without looking behind her, Kitty took off her coat and tossed it in the small room where other people were throwing theirs. She did a half-turn, just enough to catch the expression on Pyro's face, and smirked as she strolled towards the dance floor. His lips had been parted, the want in his eyes extremely gratifying after all the work she'd put into finding this outfit.

Kitty wore black boots that she'd borrowed off of Jubes. They came up to her knees. Her red skirt, which had seemed black in the darkness outside but now was very clearly the color of burnt crimson, was slit up one side halfway up her thigh. (Also borrowed from Jubilee.) Her top was her own, though: a royal purple, formfitting bodice-type thing that laced up the back and flared silkily at her waist. Her hair was in a French knot on top of her head, and she'd actually spent time doing her makeup. In short, she was breathtaking.

Pyro had to tell himself to close his mouth and go sit down in the back of the room.

Moodily, he kicked out his feet and folded his arms, watching her dance. She moved through the crowd like the ghost she could be, her body twisting with the music in a way that made his breath catch. She was laughing, her arms above her head, her back arching as she did a little twirl and dip. The air seemed suddenly hot and thick, and Pyro found himself playing with his lighter flame as he followed her with his eyes. She glanced at him, a seductively knowing smile on her face, and melted away into colors and bodies and heat.

"Damn you," John muttered. He reached into his pocket and took out a pen, absently reaching for a napkin on the table he sat at. Not looking away from the dance floor, Pyro began to do something he hadn't done since joining Magneto: he began to write.

Kitty took a deep breath before putting the second part of her plan into motion. She made her way to the stage in the front and yelled something into the ear of the tall black man fiddling with an amp. He looked at her, and asked something. Cupping her hands around her mouth, Kitty responded over the shouts and music, gesturing to herself and then to the stage. He shrugged, and nodded, giving her a push towards the stairs that led up to it.

"All right, people," the black man shouted into the microphone he held in one hand. "We've got some karaoke coming up for you! Give it up for the Kitty-Cat!" The crowd cheered happily as Kitty made her way to the mike stand in the middle of the stage.

"John," Kitty said into the mike, searching the crowd until she found his gelled blond hair. He was slouched in a chair near the back of the room. It looked like he was writing something. He looked up as she said his name. She nodded at the black man, and he pressed a button behind him. The music started, and Kitty swayed with it, holding the mike stand and not looking away from the shadowed figure who was watching her reluctantly. Softly, but gaining courage, she began to sing.

"I wanted to be like you.

I wanted everything.

So I tried to be like you,

And I got swept away."

Her voice wasn't especially powerful, but it was sweet and pretty, and the crowd cheered for her. She heard a few voices rise above the others, including Jubilee's ("What the hell is she DOING up there?!) and Bobby's ("Sing it, Kitty!").

"I didn't know that it was so cold, and

You needed someone to show you the way.

So I took your hand and we figured out that

When the tide comes, I'd take you away."

He was staring at her, the small flame of his lighter barely visible across the large room. She took a deep breath and continued, not breaking the stare. Kitty Pryde could hold her own, starting now.

"If you want to, I can save you.

I can take you away from here.

So lonely inside, so busy out there

And all you wanted was somebody who cares."

She felt herself gripping the mike stand harder, and leaned in. Her skirt swirled around her legs as the crowd shouted.

"I'm sinking slowly,

So hurry, hold me!

Your hand is all I have

To keep me hanging on.

Please, can you tell me, so I can finally see

Where you go when you're gone?"

Pyro was getting to his feet. Kitty almost snarled, and when the next verse came, her voice came out strong and sure and he stopped with the force of it.

"If you want to, I can save you!

I can take you away from here!

So lonely inside, so busy out there

And all you wanted was somebody who cares.

All you wanted was somebody who cares...

If you need me, you know I'll be there!"

He was moving for the door.

"If you want to, I can save you.

I can take you away from here.

So lonely inside, so busy out there,

And all you wanted was somebody who cares..."

Kitty stopped singing and jumped off the stage, ignoring the yells and cheers from the people milling about as she raced for the door after John. She caught up with him just outside the club. He was standing with his head tilted back, eyes closed.

"John." He jerked.

"Kitty, go back inside."

"I meant it," she insisted. "Damn it, Pyro, it doesn't have to be like this!"

"Yes, it does. We can't go back to the flirting and teasing, because we both know we want more. And we can't have more, so why even bother?" She went to grab his arm and he stepped away, stalking off down the alleyway. "I'll be back in a while. Tell Storm not to get her panties in a twist." And then he was gone.

Kitty sighed and wrapped her arms around waist, chewing her lower lip. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

"Finally," came a low, pleased-sounding female voice from behind her. Kitty felt something cold on the back of her neck, or maybe it was just a chill. She yelped anyway, and turned around.


	12. Heros and Villains

"Zippo." Pyro looked up from the napkin from his place in the back of the club, glaring at Wolverine.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Have you seen Half-pint?"

"Not for at least an hour. Go away." Logan grabbed the napkin out of John's hand. Pyro lunged for it, but the bigger man shoved him back in his seat. Logan read quickly, his frown growing.

'_I knew I couldn't hate you,_

_Not even if I tried._

_Now, though, I'm sedated_

_And I feel as though I've died._

_I never guessed my feelings_

_Were twisted tight as this:_

_I'd give my blackened soul_

_To win another kiss._

_I know the way you look at me,_

_The way you feel inside,_

_But princess, now I'm telling you,_

_You've got to run and hide._

_I'm dancing an inferno_

_That I cannot put out._

_If you try to save me,_

_You'll burn without a doubt._

_It's really quite ironic_

_How I'm lost within the flames_

_And longing for your cool touch_

_To take away my blame._

_Back away, turn your head,_

_Don't try to redeem._

_I've gone too far from Heaven_

_For anything but dreams._

_I burn as bright as any spark,_

_And I can play the game,_

_But fire turns to ashes_

_And my hands wield only pain._

_So now I'm telling everything,_

_Baring my damned soul:_

_I would walk through Hell for you _

_But my touch leaves only coal._' He looked up from the poem, meeting Pyro's cold, angry eyes. The teenager looked murderous, his face twisted rebelliously as he stared Logan down.

"This for her? For Kitty?"

"Fuck you."

"When did you say you saw her?" John sighed, rubbing a hand down his face furiously.

"She was outside about an hour ago, but she came back in."

"You sure? Did you see her come back?" Pyro looked up.

"No," he said slowly. "Why? Is she-"

"Nobody's seen her since she ran out of here after that song. You mean this?"

"What?" John was getting to his feet now. He grabbed for the poem, but Logan held it away.

"You said you'd walk through Hell for her. You mean it?"

"Leave me alone," Pyro snarled, snatching the poem and turning to push past Wolverine. Logan's hand shot out to grasp the teenager's shoulder, jerking him to a stop.

"Listen up, you little punk," Wolverine hissed, "Kitty's missing! In about five minutes, Storm's gonna blow over here and get everybody out. She's gonna launch some big manhunt, and Half-pint's gonna disappear forever. Frost knows how to vanish. The bitch wants you, though. She wants both of you. So you're Kitty's only chance. Frost'll let you find her, and chances are, Kitty will be there. I don't know what happened between you two, but that girl cares about you. If you would really walk through Hell for her, you better get moving, 'cause Hell just opened!"

"What are you saying?" Wolverine was talking fast, his face inches away from Pyro's.

"I'm saying I'm breaking the rules. I want you to get the fuck out of here and make a scene. Draw attention to yourself. You know what I'm talking about. Make Frost come to you. Get Kitty back." Pyro could see the words the older man left unspoken, reflected in the steel of his eyes: _I couldn't save Jean, but maybe you can save Kitty._

"You trust me to go save the day?"

"No. I trust you to get _yourself _killed before you get _her _killed. Am I right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Damn it, kid, we don't have time for this. You gonna do the right thing for once in your pathetic little life?" Pyro shoved Wolverine hard enough to make the older man stumble back, almost falling before he caught himself on the back of a chair. When Logan looked back up, the boy was gone.

Wolverine growled beneath his breath, moving to go find Storm. Suddenly, he paused.

Lying abandoned on the floor was a crumpled napkin, darkly-inked words illegible but visible through the thin paper.

Logan smiled.

8888888888

Pyro walked fast, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. He was headed for Times Square, only a few blocks from the club they'd been in. His jaw was set, the self-hatred evident in his hard eyes and quick pace.

_My fault._

_She went out there after me, and I left her alone. I fucking KNEW she was in danger, and I left her alone._

Pyro stopped in the middle of Times Square and took out his lighter.

Rage fueled the flames that shot into the sky, rage and pain and fear that made the fire spread and burn and consume until explosions shook the night and screams filled the air. Pyro was on his knees in the middle of the inferno, his arms above his head, screaming with the roar of the fire as he unleashed the real power he held inside him: destruction. That was all he was good for, all he'd ever been good for, but maybe this time, his rage would save a life instead of destroy one.

"Pyro!" It was Rogue, darting through the flames, her newly-gloved hands reaching for him. He wasn't surprised it was her. He wasn't surprised at anything.

"Do it, Rogue," he shouted, his eyes wild. "Take them! Take them all! I don't want them anymore! I don't want to remember!"

"Pyro, you gotta stop it! Bobby and the others are coming! What the hell are you doing?!" He got to his feet, forcing the wildness down as he grabbed her wrist. She fought to pull away, but he wouldn't let go.

"I'm going to Hell," John said to Marie, ripping off her glove and praying the cure had worn off enough. He laid his roughened fingertips on the back of her hand, gritting his teeth against the slow strain as her powers kicked in. It wasn't anywhere near as strong as the last time she'd touched him, but he could feel his thoughts and recent memories swirling into her. She was gasping for breath, shaking. He tore his hand away and stumbled back as she collapsed to the ground, unconscious with the shock of it. It was enough. It had to be enough. She would know the truth. If it wasn't, well... they'd just send him to prison for running away from them. But hopefully, he'd save Kitty first.

John pulled Rogue's body away from the flames, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

8888888888

When Pyro opened his eyes again, he was strapped vertically to some kind of table. He was almost standing, but tilted just a bit backwards. There was a low chuckle, and the sound of two pairs of heels clicking as they rounded the table.

Emma Frost smiled at John Allerdyce. Beside her, blank-faced and calm, stood Kitty Pryde. Pyro jerked at the sight of her, baring his teeth at Emma.

"What did you do to her?" The woman in white stroked a hand down Kitty's hair, which had come out of her French knot.

"Just... readjusted her a little. No harm done."

"No harm, my ass. Let her go!"

"Do you really think you should be giving me orders, little boy?" He sneered.

"Do you really think you can scare me into _not _giving you orders, bitch?" She shrugged.

"Actually, yes. I do." With that, Emma Frost sent a bullet of pain into Pyro's skull that made him reel against the straps, screaming. When it stopped, she smiled. "See?"

She gave Kitty a little push. The girl stepped closer to Pyro, who peered into her face in search of something recognizable. Nothing. There was no one behind those blue eyes. Kitty reached out and phased her hand through Pyro's stomach. He gasped, trying to squirm away. She just... stood there, her hand inside his abdomen, waiting for the word.

"Now. Should I have her remove your liver? A kidney? Your heart, perhaps?"

"Emma! You promised me a word!" Pyro sagged with relief as Kitty turned to face Emma, awaiting further instruction as the older woman looked at the door. A familiar figure stood there, his clear blue eyes crinkling as he took in the sight of possessed Kitty, irritated Emma, and captured John.

Eric Lensherr walked further into the room, gesturing towards Pyro, still looking at Emma.

"When I contacted you the other day, you told me I could talk to young Pyro here before you, ah, eviscerated him. I'd like you to hold your word, Emma." Frost sighed disgustedly.

"Just when it was getting fun. All right, Eric, but only ten minutes. And only because we're old... friends." She beckoned shortly to Kitty and strode out of the room. It hurt Pyro deep inside to see Kitty follow her out without a backward glance.

Magneto approached the table, clasping his hands.

"Pyro. How wonderful to see you again." John gritted his teeth.

"Debatable." Magneto chuckled.

"Yes. Your situation seems to have deteriorated somewhat since last we met. How exactly did you get on Emma's bad side? Not that that's particularly difficult to accomplish."

"I burned up her favorite shirt. So. You back in business?" In answer, Magneto held up a hand. The metal table lifted into the air and set back down.

"The so-called 'cure' wasn't a cure at all."

"I noticed."

"I can get you out of here, Pyro," Magneto said quietly, the old intensity in his eyes. John didn't speak. "If you wish me to. I can set you free from these bonds just as I did from the bonds of your old school-days." Pyro scoffed.

"You didn't set me free. I chose my freedom."

"Yes, but without me, you would have nothing." The old man studied Pyro's face. "This is a call-to-arms, brother," he intoned, looking deep into the teenager's unreadable eyes. "How do you answer?"

There was silence in the cold room.


	13. Walking The Line

Pyro didn't know what to do.

He heard Logan's angry, commanding voice in his head: 'Do the right thing for once in your _pathetic_ _little_ _life'_. Do the right thing?

What _was_ the right thing? He hung his head, thinking.

If he stayed, he would die. Kitty would kill him on Frost's orders. If he took Magneto's offer and left, he'd have another chance.

Another chance at what? At saving her? At destroying himself? At being the bad guy? At _what_?

He honestly didn't know. He wasn't built to be a hero, he knew that. He'd already chosen Magneto once. Now, it was either return to the Brotherhood or die. He was immobilized, away from a source of fire, and Kitty was under Emma Frost's complete control. There was nothing he could do to help her. It had been stupid of him to even try. Since when did _Pyro_ save anybody? He couldn't even save _himself_.

And there was another thing.

He was sinking.

He'd thought he was over it. Starting over. Putting the past behind him. But that was all a lie, and now he breathed in and tasted fear on his tongue. He'd scared Kitty. Hurt her. Been cruel to her. Loved her. Tried to save her, without even thinking, and failed completely. Now, in the starkness of the room, alone with Eric Lensherr, he felt his blood tingle with power and knew he could let go. Agree to join Magneto and then just let go of it all as soon as he was free.

_Burn it all._

He'd wondered. After the fire that killed his family, he'd wondered what it would be like. He'd dreamed about it. His nightmares. His fantasies. He'd dreamed of... killing her? Kitty? Burning her to death to make her voice stop telling him he was a monster in his nightmares?

What would it be like, though? To release everything. To burn the world. See if he could finally destroy everything left of himself.

_'Do the right thing for once in your pathetic little life.' _

Maybe the right thing would be to let Kitty pull out his heart and leave him on this table. He could just give up. Give in. There was no way he could save her, and no way he could rescue himself if he went with Magneto. It would all spiral down. It would be so easy just to die and fade away. God knows Kitty shouldn't be disappointed if he did. Not like he ever stuck with anything good, after all.

Only... maybe Kitty was right. Maybe people could change.

_I would walk through Hell for you, but my touch leaves only coal._

Slowly, Pyro looked up.

_I would walk through Hell for you._

_Do the right thing._

"With all due respect," he said quietly, "I'll take my chances here."

Magneto looked taken aback. He frowned at his once-right-hand man.

"What? You'd sacrifice yourself for... for what? Is this about the girl?" John didn't answer. Magneto closed his eyes, shaking his head. "You realize this is futile, do you not? You cannot save her. This is suicide."

"I always kind of expected to get killed in a fight or do it myself," he replied with a shrug.

"Why are you doing this, Pyro? Why are you abandoning the cause?" There was a pause, and then-

"I gave up everything," John said suddenly. "For the _cause_. For _freedom_. And you know what it got me? Jack shit. Alone on the streets with nothing but paranoia and three kinds of complexes." He looked at Magneto, who had the barest hint of a smile on his face. "And you! You gave up everything, too. Only you gave up more than I did, and I don't think you can ever get it back. When Mystique sacrificed herself for you, you just walked away. I don't wanna be like that."

"My dear boy, you already _are_ like that. You were fully prepared to murder your once-best friend."

"Yeah, but Bobby's an asshole. And my point is, maybe I actually want a life. Maybe I'm actually gonna fight for one for the first time in way too long."

"And how are you going to do this strapped to a table at Emma Frost's mercy?" Pyro smiled, his eyes glinting.

"That's where you come in." Magneto raised a brow.

"Are you asking me to set you free without taking you with me to the new Brotherhood base?"

"Yeah," John answered, as the gears started turning. "Yeah, I am."

"And why, pray tell, would I do that? As you said before, I am not one for looking kindly on those who are no longer useful to me." Pyro nodded, still thinking fast.

"I've got something you want, though," he told his former boss. "I've got an in to Xavier's Institute."

"You would put the Institute at risk to save a girl?" Pyro rolled his eyes.

"Come on, man," he said, a little exasperated, "I'm new at this whole hero thing. Cut me some slack."

As Magneto raised his hands, Pyro swore he saw a gleam of pride in the old man's eyes.

8888888

"Where's John? Oh, this is a nightmare! Logan, get over here!" Storm was standing in the foyer of the mansion after making sure all the other students were accounted for. She put a hand to her forehead. Wolverine jogged over. "You said he wouldn't run off! I should have known we couldn't trust him."

"Maybe he didn't just run off. Maybe he went after her."

"After Kitty? Why would he do a thing like that? This is Pyro we're talking about!"

"Did you miss the way those kids looked at each other? And that song Half-pint sang? That was for him." Storm sighed.

"I wish I could be as forgiving as Charles, and apparently you, but Logan... I just cannot believe that John Allerdyce would risk his life to save someone other than himself. When he came here, he was as much helping himself as warning Kitty."

"You don't know that, 'Ro. You don't know what's inside that kid's head."

"But I do," came a shaky, but sure voice from the stairway. Both adults looked over. Rogue stood there, hand on the railing, still dressed in the dark blue top and black dress pants she'd worn to the club. She looked pale and a little ill, but met both pairs of eyes bravely.

"What was that, sweetie," Storm asked gently. Rogue came further down the stairs.

"I know what's in his head." Logan understood first, and slowly began to shake his head.

"No. Oh, no."

"Yes. The cure's just a- a hoax. A temp. I ran after him when he did his whole pyromaniac show in Times Square earlier, and he... he tore off my glove and made me touch his hand. He wanted you to know. He knew you wouldn't trust it from anyone but someone like... like me," she finished softly.

"And what did you discover?" Storm's voice was low, but her back tensed.

"Logan's right." Wolverine didn't smile, but he looked just a little relieved. "He went after Kitty because he knew Frost wanted him too, so he would be the only one she'd let find her. The fires were to draw her to him, like a... like a trap. Or something."

"Why would he do that? Have we all misjudged him that much?" Rogue smiled a little.

"No. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He thinks..." The smile faded. "He thinks he's gonna die getting her back. And he doesn't really care."

"Are you saying John's suicidal?" She shrugged.

"Not exactly. He doesn't want to die. He just can't see how being dead would be worse than being alive."

8888888888

The buckles on the straps holding Pyro to the table warped and snapped, clattering to the floor. Cracking his neck, John stepped down to the ground and rolled his shoulders, which had been beginning to cramp up. Magneto eyed him appraisingly.

"Now. Convince me not to call Emma in here."

"Thought I just did."

"Convince me you'll follow through." Pyro sighed.

"After all I've done for you, I haven't won that much trust?" Magneto shrugged.

"Perhaps you have. Tell me once more why you're doing this? Exactly? And be quick; we don't have much time before she comes back." Pyro met his former mentor's eyes and saw not cold calculation in the latter's. Maybe it wasn't fatherly concern or anything like that, but he'd been right in his gamble: Magneto did look at him as more than just a lackey. Just as he'd looked at Magneto as more than just a lunatic boss.

"Don't worry. I'm not joining the X-Men. I'll do what it takes to save Kitty, though, because... well, because I... Ah, hell, you know what I'm trying to say, right? Don't make me say it." Magneto rolled his eyes.

"I expect files on every student in that school," Eric Lensherr said finally, the sentiment out of his tone. "And if I ever run across you in one of those ridiculous leather costumes, I-"

"Believe me. Those things will never touch me if I have anything to say about it." _Though really_, Pyro thought, _someone who wears a bucket on his head should not make fun of other people's clothing._

"Very well. I am saddened that you will not rejoin our cause, Pyro. You were a good soldier." John smirked a little.

"Yeah, well, you'll be seeing me. I figure I can be some sort of merc, right? After all, I've tried both sides. Neither really did it for me for long. Why not switch off?" Magneto's lips twitched with amusement, and he backed away.

Without a final goodbye, the old man strode out of the room. Right before the door slammed shut, he flicked one hand behind him. Two things happened. One, the bottom hinge on the door twisted just enough to keep the door from fully closing. Two, a cheap black lighter flew through the air and into Pyro's waiting hand.


	14. Blood and Fire

Fire is a beautiful thing.

Many people understand this, but only to a point. They don't really get the pureness of fire, the dancing, leaping, joyous deadlylovelymiracle that is flame.

Pyro understood.

He held the fire in his hands, and he knew its beauty. Knew it deep down in his bones because now, fire didn't need to be just destructive. It could be salvation, too. A burning angel. Dictated by his thoughts, the fire swam and shifted and radiated outwards in wings, becoming a glorious winged figure hovering above his two mortal palms.

The door was not locked.

Guided by his guardian angel, John Allerdyce walked steadily across the room. His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

He opened the unlocked door, pushing lightly with his foot. He stepped into a hallway with a mirror on the opposite end and a little table beneath the mirror, flanked by two comfortable-looking chairs. Each chair was filled with female, one blond, one brunette. Pyro made the angel bigger, and it waved at Emma Frost, who was getting to her feet.

"Boo."

"What- Eric," she muttered venomously. "All right, boy, you want to play rough? Shadowcat! Let's test your mettle!" And she smiled, certain of her victory. Without even having to touch his mind again.

John split his angel in two, forming two large firewolves that flanked him and snarled. The sound that came out of their fiery jaws was hissing and crackling, like sparks jumping in a fireplace.

"Kitty," he said, "don't do this." Emma laughed.

"She's mine now, Johnny-boy. Might as well give up. Or are you going to try and burn her?"

"Not her," he said, and sent his wolves straight at Kitty. Despite herself, Emma took a halting step forward as if to snatch her prize out of the way, but of course Kitty phased through the flames. The older woman leaped back, just in time to keep from being scorched. The wolves prowled around her, but she curled her lip at John and nodded to Kitty, looking unafraid.

The smaller girl had reached Pyro at this point. She stretched out a hand.

"Kitten!" He avoided her hand, trying to keep his eyes on both Frost and Kitty at the same time. "Fix her," he shouted. "Make her right!"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'll kill you if you don't!"

"No, you really won't." Emma stepped forward and narrowed her eyes. The firewolves cringed as John yelped with pain. Then, he remembered the first attack, and blocked her again. She cursed. "Where did you learn that?"

"Mystique taught me," he snarled. She rolled her eyes as Pyro ducked away from Kitty's searching fingers.

"Oh. Right. Mystique," Emma repeated in a tone that dripped contempt.

"She's better than you'll ever be, you bitch!" He snapped his fingers, and the firewolves lunged. They pinned Emma down and backed off, leaving her screaming and patting wildly at her smoking clothes. "You can't worm into my head when you're in pain, can you," John asked smugly. "You may have kicked my ass before, but I've got my fire, now!" The wolves nipped her arms and legs.

"Stop! You little bastard, stop! Shadowcat, KILL HIM!" Kitty took advantage of Pyro's distraction and made a great flying leap, catching him in the chest and knocking him backwards. The wolves shrank with his surprise, but did not let Emma up. Kitty reached into John's ribcage, her intangible hand cold and tingly above his heart. Her blank, terrifying eyes saw him but did not see him. Behind them, Emma was breathing hard.

"Do it," she called to Kitty.

"No!" Pyro shouted the word, scrabbling for purchase as he tried to slide away from her. Kitty's hand closed and drew out...

Empty.

Pyro froze, staring at her. There was none of his Kitten in her eyes, but there was a look of mild confusion on her pretty face. As if she didn't know why he was still alive, either.

"You don't want to do this," John said in as firm a voice as he could manage. "You don't want to kill me. That's why you didn't yank out my heart just then." She wasn't moving away, but she wasn't moving back towards him, either. He took this as a good sign. "Come on, Kitten, don't-" She pressed her hand back on his chest, as if deciding whether or not to reach in.

"Why are you here," Kitty asked suddenly. Emma was silent, surprised. Pyro blinked.

"Uh-"

"Why are you here," she said again. She sounded drugged and dreamy, her blank eyes serenely questioning. Blind.

"I'm here for you," he answered finally. If this were one of those sappy romances Hollywood spat out like tobacco, he'd have said something like, 'Because I love you!', and she would have snapped out of her hypnosis and they would have kissed before defeating the evil villain.

Unfortunately for all concerned (except for Emma, of course), this was no sappy romance. Kitty's hand slipped through his ribs, the momentary lapse over, and John squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he could kill Emma with his firewolves, but if he did that, Kitty might never return from whatever winterland she'd been locked into.

"Wait!" He breathed out a huge whoosh of air as Emma's voice broke the awful silence. She was standing, and walked calmly around the firewolves to kneel beside the two teenagers. "I want to see your face when she kills you," she said softly. Pyro swallowed. He looked at Kitty. Willed her to break free. Willed her to remember him.

Willed her to realize that he loved her enough for this. All of this.

If only he could figure out how to say it without feeling like a dork.

But that really didn't matter right now, did it?

Kitty stared down at his face, her big brown eyes seeing... what? What did she see? Her hand was still inside his chest, waiting to steal away his life. This time, he refused to close his eyes. He stared straight into hers, mouth tightening with determination. Come on, Kitten. You can do this.

Her arm tensed.

It happened fast. So fast he didn't realize it was happening at all until it was done. Kitty yanked her hand up and out of Pyro's chest, pivoted, slammed her fist into Emma and pulled out something red and wet and throbbing.

Dropped it.

Watched Emma Frost gape, blood trickling from her mouth and nose, disbelief in her cold blue eyes.

Looked back at John.

Collapsed.

"Oh my God," John murmured, not hearing the words come out of his mouth. He caught her when she crumpled, not even sparing a glance for the body at his side. Kitty's hand was covered in blood, blood up to her wrist. Her face was serene in its stillness, but there was motion beneath her closed lids. She was alive, aware.

Back.

"Come on," he said, rocking her a little. "Come on. Wake up. We gotta get out of here." He moved them away from the dead woman on the floor, standing gingerly with her in his arms. "Please, Kitten, wake up!" He looked around. They were somewhere in Emma's territory, and there were bound to be guards.

"John?" He looked back down at her, relief taking over.

"Kitty? Oh god, Kitty."

"What- Why am I bloody?" She was looking at her hand. He blanched and turned quickly away, trying not to let her see the body.

"Hey. It's okay. Can you phase us out of here?"

"What?" She still sounded dazed, and he couldn't blame her. John didn't have time to think about what had just happened. He peered at her intently.

"Kitten. I need you to phase us, okay? Just make us ghosty, and I'll handle the rest."

"I'm mad at you," she said blearily, frowning up at him. "Why are you holding me? Aren't you mad at me, too?" He had to laugh a little.

"Oh, man, baby, I am never gonna be mad at you again. Not if we get out of here alive."

"Out of- what?" But she furrowed her brow with concentration and he felt the tingle of intangibility as her powers went to work. John ran, wincing every time they came up against a wall, half expecting to slam into it and crash down to the floor. But they didn't crash, and nothing stopped them. "Where are we going," Kitty murmured.

"Home," John replied without thinking. As soon as he heard what he'd just said, he faltered just a bit before resuming his run. It might not be HIS home, but it was hers, and that was all that mattered.

"Oh," Kitty said before her eyes closed and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Oh.

8888888888

"Xavier Mansion, whaddaya want?" It was one of the students, sounding tired and a little scared. John looked down at the girl curled up on the bench a few feet away.

"Is Storm there? Or Logan?"

"Who's this?"

"Just tell me, kid."

"Uh, Storm's here. Logan's not."

"Let me talk to her," Pyro said shortly. He reached out and took Kitty's hand, stretching the cord as far from the phone booth as he could. As long as she didn't wake up, he could hold her hand like this.

He kinda wished she wouldn't wake up for a while.

"Yes?" Ororo sounded rushed.

"Storm?"

"Who is this? Logan? Have you-"

"It's Pyro." A pause.

"Pyro," Storm said cautiously. "Ah, where-"

"We're at the bus stop at 9th and 34th." Another short pause.

"We?" Hopeful, now, but still wary.

"She's fine. I think. Sleeping."

"You have Kitty?"

"Don't sound so shocked. Wasn't that hard. I'm surprised you guys couldn't rescue her. Had to let little old me-"

"We'll be there shortly," Storm interrupted crisply. Pyro smirked. Even though he had very nearly died during the 'not that hard' rescue, it was still good for laughs to make fun of the X-Men. Especially when they very clearly owed him. A lot. Hey. Leverage. Did this mean he wouldn't have to leave the country to make them stop trying to force him through their little rehab program? A little sourly, John shook his head at himself. Hell, no.

Pyro hung up the phone and went to sit beside Kitty's sleeping form, letting out a huge sigh. Making sure she was all on the bench, and not about to fall to the cold concrete floor, he slouched down on the slats and leaned his head against the backrest.

John closed his eyes.


	15. We Are Undone

Chapter Fifteen

He woke up when the sixth sense he'd developed during his days in an army tingled, alerting him to the presence of others. They were coming down the stairs into the subway station, talking quietly. Pyro sat up silently, checking Kitty and seeing that she was fine and still sound asleep. The voices sounded like Logan and Bobby, possibly Rogue. John frowned. He didn't want to do this, but what other chance would he have? No way was he going through any kind of rehab.

Standing lightly, John darted into the shadows behind a large garbage can and a pillar, ducking down. Hopefully the garbage would hide his scent from Wolverine's damned nose, and he could make sure that Kitty was safely retrieved. Seconds after he was out of sight, the X-Men came into view. He'd been right in his guesses as to who they were.

"Kitty!" Bobby ran to her, followed closely by Rogue and Logan. The three of them knelt around the bench. Pyro watched Kitty sit up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Getting blood on her face. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw her stare at her bloody hands and felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach. He bit his lip hard against the urge to run to her and tell her that it was him, him who'd killed Emma Frost, and that she hadn't had a thing to do with it. He felt a surge of relief when Logan said, oddly loud,

"Don't worry 'bout it, Half-pint. Of the two of you, who already knew how to kill? It's probably best you don't remember, but I'm pretty sure Zippo's hands are dirtier than yours." And was it just him, or did Logan look straight in his direction when he said that? And was that a little nod of recognition? Just barely there, almost imperceptible, but... And then, Wolverine was looking back at Kitty and helping her to her feet and they were moving, walking, leaving.

Pyro waited until long after they were gone before whispering,

"I love you."

_Coward_, he thought viciously. _**Coward**_.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he walked quickly into the dark.

88888888888888888

"John? John?"

"Oh, Kitty, you're awake," Hank said warmly. Kitty opened her eyes blearily, blinking up at the blue doctor.

"Where's Pyro?"

"How do you feel? You didn't have any major injuries, but I understand the trauma could be-" She sat up, putting a hand to her head.

"Where's John?" Hank waved a hand through the air as if to ward off her question.

"You've been asleep for two days, and-"

"WHERE'S JOHN?!" Kitty watched as Hank shrugged helplessly.

"We, ah, we don't know."

"What?" Very soft.

"He went after you, after you were kidnapped, and somehow managed to find, rescue and carry you to a subway station in New York. He then called the Institute with a pay phone and told us your location. We believe he stayed with you until he heard Logan and the others enter, and then..."

"And then?" Also soft. The big man shook his head, not wanting to say the words.

"He left."

"Again," Kitty finished for him, almost inaudibly. She sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm very sorry," Hank said uselessly. "But at least we know he's alive, and obviously well enough to carry you from wherever- Do you happen to know where you were being held?" Kitty shook her head slowly.

"I don't remember anything," she said absently, still staring into nothing. "Nothing after I went outside the club and he-" She broke off. Hank didn't make her finish.

8888888888888

Kitty was lying on the couch rather mindlessly watching a rerun of Star Trek when Bobby and Spyke walked in. She didn't look up, but they were talking loudly enough that she could hear them clearly over the television.

"Figures. I knew he wouldn't stick around."

"I know, right? After all, he already left once." It was pretty damn obvious who they were talking about, and Kitty felt her throat clamp. She sat up, muting the TV.

"What the hell are you saying, Bobby Drake? And you, Evan, have you lost your mind? Whatever mind you had in the first place?" Ordinarily, she wasn't so sharp, but Kitty couldn't stop the biting tone from entering her voice. The boys looked over, startled. Was it possible that they'd somehow missed the fact that she was, in fact, present? Then, Spyke rallied.

"We're talking about Pyro. You know, the loser who just skipped out for a second time? Doubt anyone's gonna be giving him a third chance."

"Oh, you mean Pyro who SAVED my LIFE? Who risked his own, more than once, to keep me safe? Who risked his freedom to get me home? _That_ Pyro?" Bobby at least looked ashamed.

"Kitty, look," he started. "We were just-" She shook her head.

"I don't care what you were just. How dare you judge him?" He sighed and sat down beside her. Evan, sensing a get-out-of-jail-free opportunity, slipped out.

"It's just, I can't believe he actually left again," Bobby said. Now, his voice wasn't so loud. Kitty let him speak, silenced by the look of hurt confusion on his face. "I mean, I thought we were getting through to him. Obviously you more than anyone, but... I guess part of me always expected him to go, though. I never had faith in him, not from the very beginning. And now, I just feel like he proved me right, you know? Like, why bother? He just did exactly the same thing he did a year ago." It was Kitty's turn to sigh.

"But he saved me," she said again, softer. "That's got to count for something, right?" Bobby bit his lip, looking hesitant.

"Did... do you know anything about John's past?" Kitty frowned. She didn't understand where Pyro's past came into this.

"No," she said slowly. "It's kind of a touchy subject, I think." Bobby let out a low laugh.

"You could say that."

"Why? Do you know?" He nodded, after a long pause. Kitty stared.

"He TOLD you?!"

"He was drunk, if that makes it any more believable. It was about two years ago. I... I think you should know, especially now. I hadn't actually thought about it for a long time, but when you brought up saving people... it all came back." She tilted her head a bit, unsure, but unable to refuse any tidbit of knowledge about the strange, half-broken boy that she couldn't help calling 'hers'.

"Okay. Tell me." Bobby bent his head to look at his lap. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and sober.

"He moved here from Australia when he was really little. Three or four. He had a brother and a sister, one older, one younger. When he was about thirteen, his powers started... Well, you know how it goes. And he didn't know what was... Anyway, they were having a cookout, only it started raining, so they brought everything inside. The whole family was in the kitchen, you know, helping out. And of course the stove was on, and the fire..." He trailed off with a slight wince. "By the time they managed to put it out, it was too late. Everyone was dead. No one ever found the middle Allerdyce boy, so he was assumed gone as well... but he wasn't. He ran. Lived on the streets for about a year before Scott found him and brought him here." Kitty was shaking her head.

"Oh, my god," she whispered. "I must have hurt him so much when I said that about his... Why did you tell me that?" Bobby looked at her.

"Because it changed him. He decided that, since he couldn't save his parents or his brother or his sister, and he couldn't really help himself after that, that he couldn't save anyone. That he wasn't worth anyone wanting to save him, if that makes sense. It's why he was always such a rebel in school. He figured that, if he made himself out to be this untouchable, uncontrollable blackjack-type kid, no one would even try to help him, so he wouldn't let anyone else down." Kitty's eyes were filling with tears now, for the lost little boy he'd been... and the angry young man he was.

"And?" Now, Bobby gave her a slight smile. He shrugged.

"Don't you get it," he asked gently. "He went after you. He saved you, when he'd promised never to even try to rescue anyone again. I may not like him much, but I know he cares about you. He loves you, Kitty. He has to, for him to do that. It's not so much the risking his life as the risking his emotions, you know? Risking losing someone else."

"So why," Kitty asked, lip beginning to tremble, "did he leave me?"

And when Bobby put his arms around her and hugged her, she let him, knowing that there was nothing but friendship and compassion in the hug. Bobby was the sweetest guy she knew, and even now, she had to smile just a little.

"Bobby, Kitty, please come to the War Room." It was Storm, ducking her head into the room before moving on. The two teenagers pulled out of the hug, looking at each other in surprise, before rising.

"What's happened," Bobby asked, sounding a little worried. Kitty shrugged.

"I don't know." She couldn't help the note of fear from entering her voice: they'd found him. He'd snapped, gone completely over the edge, and incinerated a mall and they'd caught him.

No. That was ridiculous.

But as she and Bobby hurried to the War Room, Kitty found that she could barely breathe.


	16. Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Chapter Sixteen

When she reached the War Room, closely followed by Bobby, Kitty was out of breath. She frowned, confused. There was Storm, and Logan and Rogue, and a few of the other older students. There was someone else, too: a stranger she didn't recognize, standing at the head of the table in the center of the room. Beside her, Bobby nudged her side lightly. She shrugged.

Slowly, Kitty began to move towards the table. And then, the stranger turned to her and smiled.

Kitty stopped dead.

She knew that smile.

"Oh my god," she breathed. She'd heard it was true, but she had to admit, she hadn't really believed it. "Bobby, look!" Storm was smiling too, her wide, radiant smile that was so rarely seen these days. Even Logan was grinning, the joy plain on his usually closed-off face.

"Hello, Kitty. Bobby. It's good to see you again." Bobby took a deep breath.

"Hey, Professor."

888888888888

"I still can't believe it," Jubilee was saying. "I mean, am I, like, the only person here who didn't know he was still alive?" Rogue slung a careful arm around her shoulders, avoiding any skin-to-skin contact.

"Yep," she said in her slow drawl. "For once, you weren't in on the scoop." Jubilee shrugged Rogue's arm away in mock annoyance. Kitty looked on from her place curled in an armchair, a small frown on her face. Rogue had been avoiding her. Why? They hadn't exactly been close, but ever since she'd returned from Emma Frost's mansion, the Southern girl had been very careful never to be alone with her. And, whenever Pyro's name was mentioned, Rogue had always either left the room or buried herself in a book.

Actually, Rogue wasn't the only one avoiding Kitty, though she was certainly the most obvious. The younger kids, Spyke, Sam and even Jubilee, seemed to be keeping their distance. It was as if she'd come down with some unknown disease, and they were all afraid of catching it. It made Kitty extremely uncomfortable. Bobby, at least, tried to treat her the same, but it was small comfort in the end. Things between her and Iceman hadn't been completely normal since... well, you know, and even though they were still friends and nothing was awkward between them, it just wasn't the same. Besides, Kitty knew everyone- especially Rogue- was watching the two of them whenever they were together, waiting to see if Bobby would do something stupid.

As if he would. As if SHE would. She'd learned her lesson the first time: people in love don't fall out of love just because you want them to. Exactly her current problem, actually. If only she could just stop loving John. He'd left, hadn't he? He'd left. And it didn't matter what Bobby said; if he loved her, why would he leave her?

And then there was the whole Emma Frost thing in general. Something wasn't right there. She'd woken up with her hands all bloody. Why was that? What had happened? They'd told her Emma was dead, and that they thought Pyro had done it. At least, that's what Logan had said. So if Pyro killed her, why was there blood? Wouldn't there just have been a pile of ashes? And why was the blood on HER hands? She shook her head in distress. She couldn't remember. Why couldn't she remember?

Thinking about those horrible few hours made her head hurt: a strange, throbbing ache that made her want to think about something, anything, else. But the only other thing she could think of was... Yep. That's the one.

John.

"Kitty? Could you come to my office, please?" It was the Professor, speaking through his mental intercom. He'd been back for a day, and it was just like old times. Except he could walk. That would take some getting used to. Though she was happy for him, and overjoyed he was alive, Kitty couldn't help missing the wheelchair just a little. She couldn't explain it, but somehow, seeing him in that chair had always made her feel so safe. She knew it was a little backwards, but to her, Charles Xavier in his wheelchair looked perfectly invincible.

When Kitty stood and walked out of the lounge, no eyes followed her. No one even noticed she'd gone. Ever since her ordeal with Frost and John's desertion, Kitty had gotten quiet. Contemplative. Almost as invisible as the ghost she was, in her natural state. There was something so sad about that thought that it physically hurt her, though she couldn't quite say why. Something about the fact that, without the blocks the Professor had helped her to erect years before, she would simply cease to be tangible, made Kitty feel... incredibly lonely. Hollow.

_Literally and figuratively, I am hollow._

That thought made her smile a bit. It sounded kind of like one of the poems in the book she'd given Pyro when he first came back.

Kitty made her way to the Professor's office, pulling her dark zip-up jacket close. It was chilly in the hallway. Reaching the door, she opened it and stepped through. The Professor was sitting behind his desk, in his new body, but the kind smile and warm eyes were the same.

"Kitty. Thank you for coming to speak with me. Please, have a seat." She did so, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees.

"What did you want to talk about, Professor?" He steepled his fingers, tilting his head.

"A young man of your acquaintance, actually. John Allerdyce."

"Pyro," she corrected softly. He'd always told adults to call him that. She'd been the only one he really allowed to call him anything else.

"John," Xavier said again, gently, but firmly, too. "I understand he saved your life about a week ago." She nodded.

"Yes, that's true."

"I was quite pleased to hear it. Of course I was relieved that you were safe and well, but I have to say, it made me very happy to hear who had done the rescuing. He's come a long way from what he was."

"Not long enough," she muttered.

"What was that?" Kitty looked up.

"Well, he left, didn't he? So obviously he didn't change enough."

"Kitty, I believe he left for a reason. I doubt he wanted to be reinstated to the X-Men way of life. Not after everything. Although I don't approve, I understand and accept his decision. He will not rejoin Magneto, and I don't believe he'll harm anyone. That is good enough for me."

"It's not good enough for me," Kitty said lowly, hugging her knees a bit tighter. The Professor nodded.

"Yes. You care deeply for him, don't you?"

"I love him," she admitted. Xavier smiled.

"That's the real reason I called you in here. I would have done so sooner, had I not had so many things to see to upon my return. Kitty," he began, peering at her intently. "What would you do if you were to see John again?" She licked her lips uncertainly before replying.

"I guess I'd yell at him for a while," she started. He chuckled, and she continued. "Then I'd... I dunno."

"Would you ask him to come back here? Would you stay with him, if he asked you?"

"I don't know, Professor. Why?"

"Listen closely, Kitty; this is very important. If you were to see John again, and he were doing something... bad, would you turn him in to either us or the authorities?" There was a certain heaviness in the way he said that that made the air in the room press down on her. Kitty hesitated, locked in his gaze.

"I..."

"Would you?" _No_, she thought. _Yes_.

"What kind of bad thing," she asked finally.

"What do you think? What constitutes a bad thing, to you?"

"Murder," she said without pause. "Using powers to steal, or hurt someone who doesn't deserve to be hurt."

"Ah," Xavier said, holding up a finger. "But who decides who deserves to be hurt?"

"What are you saying, Professor?" He lowered the finger.

"Think about that. Meanwhile, let's take your ideas. If John were killing, or stealing, or blowing things up for fun, would you tell someone?"

"Yes," Kitty told him. "If he were doing something really wrong like that, then yes."

"And if he were... What would you NOT tell about?"

"I don't know. He... he said something about being a mercenary. When we were talking about the future. Like, he didn't want to be an X-Man or a Brotherhood member, so maybe... If he did that? I don't know. I just don't know."

"Do you want him to be a mercenary?"

"No! That would mean helping the bad guys!"

"Ah, another philosophical question: who, exactly, are the 'bad guys'? What defines good and evil? It's all a matter of perspective, really. But all this is beside my original point. I'm satisfied that you would do the right thing, if necessary."

"What do you mean?" A great and terrible hope was taking hold somewhere in her throat, and with it, an uneasy confusion that she refused to look any closer at: _would_ she? Would she really do the right thing? Or would she do anything, _anything at all_ for him...

"I am going to give you a piece of paper. On it is an address. I will warn you, he does not want to be found for at least a year, or at least, that's what he's currently thinking. But I will give you this information, and trust you to do what you judge best. Am I right in trusting you to do that, Kitty?" He slid a folded piece of computer paper across the desk at her, and she took it, wide-eyed for two reasons.

One: he was telling her where John was.

Two: she was finally an adult in Charles Xavier's eyes.

"Yes," Kitty said softly, a tremor in her voice. "You are."


	17. Angels in Shadows

She phased through the door, silent as a ghost as she looked around the tiny Lower East Side apartment. There was a bed, sheets rumpled, and a dresser. That was it. The dresser was bare, as were the walls. A narrow door was set into the wall to her right. Kitty heard movement from inside it. Slowly, quietly, she went to the door. A shower was turned off within. There were the soft sounds of a towel being shaken out.

When she decided it was safe to look and not get a view that would make things twice as awkward as they'd be already, Kitty phased through the bathroom door. She figured knocking would be pointless by now.

John was standing with his back to her, a plain off-white towel around his waist. He was just standing there, one hand braced against the side of the shower, head down. Kitty couldn't help but look him over.

He was thin. That was the first thing she noticed. His back was bent slightly as he leaned, and the muscles were clear beneath the skin. His torso was long and looked strong, but also like he hadn't been eating well lately. He shifted, and the towel slid a bit. Kitty's eyes widened as the cloth slipped down over a patch of skin just above the curve of his hipbone, revealing a tattoo of a small arc of flames. Just as she saw that, Pyro turned around.

And stared.

And of course, Kitty had to let her eyes wander down his front just as they'd wandered down his back.

His hair was plastered to his head, dipping into his wide, shocked eyes. His mouth was open, and Kitty thought she'd never seen him this surprised. Beads of water slid down his shoulders and over his chest. Again, she noticed his thinness, but it wasn't a thinness she didn't like. John's chest was defined, just like his back, and, naked, he was just as lean and appealing as he'd felt clothed. He wasn't buff, but he was compactly muscled in a way that made Kitty's breath come harder.

When she finally met his eyes again, she was blushing so hard she could feel it.

"Hey, John," she said nervously. "Tag. I'm, uh, a little early."

"A little? More like a year!" She pursed her lips.

"I'm done waiting for you." He took a few steps closer. Now, the shock was out of his eyes and it was replaced by something she couldn't name.

"You shouldn't have come, Kitten. I needed that year. I was gonna... everything was gonna be all set." She smiled.

"You were gonna use it to get a job? A better place to live than this dump?" His lips quirked.

"Something like that, yeah. How did you find me?"

"Professor X is awake. Alive." He blinked at her.

"Oh." There was a long, uncomfortable silence in which Kitty and John did nothing but stare awkwardly around the bathroom, both equally aware of the fact that Pyro wore nothing but a bath towel.

"I'm gonna say something," Kitty said suddenly, looking quickly back at John. "I just have to get it out. It shouldn't come as that much of a surprise, especially now, but you might be a little- not that I care, anyway. Well, I do care, obviously, which is kind of the point, but-"

"Kitten. Just say it."

"I love you," she told him hurriedly, looking at her hands.

"I know," John said, making her look up at his face.

"You know? You KNOW? I tell you I love you and you say, 'I KNOW'?!" Flushing, Kitty turned and began to storm out of his bathroom. A hand caught her elbow and she was spun around, suddenly pressed against Pyro's chest. She could feel water coming through her shirt, and gulped.

"There are reasons I left, and reasons I didn't want you to find me yet," he said in a fast, low whisper. "But that all basically went to shit, as you can see, because you're you and of course you found me. So if you really think I'm gonna let you stomp out of here all self-righteous and... X-Man-like, you're dead wrong. We don't got any X-Men here, Kitten, and you're not gonna change that now." With that, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.

"Ah, Kitty," John said. Only it was more of a sigh, really. "This is gonna be hard. It might not work. I'm gonna hurt you and you're gonna wish you never came."

"John-"

"I've loved you all along," he finished in a low groan, sounding as if he'd tried to make it not true and failed miserably. "I can't stop."

And they were kissing now, her arms around his neck, fingers twining in his hair. His mouth was wet and warm and spicysexyaddiction, and she couldn't tell him to stop when he pulled her shirt over her head. His hands trailed fire across her skin, and she reached around his back and found the tattoo along his hipbone.

"It won't be pretty, what we have," John warned her one last time, but he sounded like what he really wanted was to tear off her pants as well as her shirt.

"I don't care," Kitty breathed, throwing herself over the edge and letting him unzip her jeans.

88888888888

After, when they were curled up on his bed in the bare little room, as bare as the walls, they breathed together. Kitty could feel the soft ups-and-downs of his chest beneath her head.

"That was your first." She looked at him with soft, pillow-warm eyes.

"Yeah," Kitty whispered. He didn't say anything more, but closed his eyes and held her tightly, like he was afraid she'd slip away through the bed and be gone.

She thought about what he'd said, there in the silence. _'There are reasons I left and reasons I didn't want you to find me yet.'_

_'I'm gonna hurt you, and you're gonna wish you never came.'_

Didn't matter. None of it. She was with him, and he loved her, so it all had to be okay. Right?

And even if it wasn't, she'd always have the Institute. Why, she was going back in a few days! She'd just have to convince him to come home...

And it would all be okay.

After all, he'd walked through Hell for her.

Surely he wouldn't harm her now.

And, as she slipped into dreams, she didn't notice that John's breathing was no longer in sync with hers... and his eyes, dark and uncertain, were open in the dim light of his small apartment.


End file.
